Sam's Tale
by Nilramiel
Summary: Sam/Rosie And NO slash! Sam returns from the War of the Ring to find the Shire changed. But some things have not changed, including the sweet hobbit lass he has had his eye on. This is the story of Sam & Rosie!
1. I've Come Back

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. For those readers with more discerning tastes, I shall give you fair warning of this.  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
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1.1 Chapter 1: "I've come back"  
  
1.2 Rated: G  
  
*~*~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sam kicked at the sides of the pony, urging him to move faster.  
  
"Come 'on, lad," urged Sam, "I know yer weary, but we must get to the Cottons' farm, fast as may be!" He slapped the pony's neck encouragingly.  
  
The pony went a little faster. Sam had a way with animals, especially ponies, and this one had carried him a long way already. They were fast friends. Sam didn't realize it, but if anyone he knew saw him, galloping like the wind through Hobbiton dressed in bright mail and girt with sword, they did not recognize him.  
  
"Not much further now," said Sam, and reaching the center of the village, he turned and galloped down the lane south towards Cotton's. He had not gone far when he heard Merry blow a blast on the horn of Rohan. Although he had been expecting it, the horn's call was so compelling that Sam almost wheeled around and rode back. His pony reared and neighed.  
  
'On, lad, on!" cried Sam, gaining control of the beast, "We'll be going back soon enough!"  
  
He rode on, hearing the blast of horns, and a great din of voices, and the slamming of doors, as Hobbiton suddenly awoke. Before he reached the end of the lane, he practically galloped into Farmer Cotton and three of his sons. They were running down the road with axes in their hands.  
  
"Nay! It's not one of them ruffians," Sam heard the farmer say, "It's a hobbit by the size of it, but all dressed up queer. Hey! Who are you? And what's all this to-do?"  
  
Sam reined his pony, coming to a sudden stop a few feet from the four men.  
  
"It's Sam," he panted, "Sam Gamgee. I've come back."  
  
Farmer Cotton was amazed. After looking closely at Sam, and taking in his strange gear, he said "We feared you were dead, lad!"  
  
Sam quickly explained the situation. Farmer Cotton and his sons were eager to join Frodo and the others as they went to battle against the ruffians.  
  
"What about Mrs. Cotton and Rosie?" asked Sam, "It isn't safe for them to be left all alone."  
  
"My Nibs is with them. But you can go and help him if you have a mind," said Farmer Cotton with a grin. He liked Sam, and he could read his daughter well enough. He knew that she would want to see him.  
  
As the farmer and his sons ran toward the village, Sam hesitated. He longed to see if Rosie and her mother were safe, for more reason than one. But his deep loyalty for Frodo, and the ringing of the horns, pulled him in the other direction.  
  
He did not hesitate long. Samwise had learned many things on his long journey with Frodo to Mordor, and one of them was that indecision is often worse than the wrong one. He continued down the lane towards the Cotton farm, and before the pony could reach a full gallop, he came to the door.  
  
Standing by the large round door were Mrs. Cotton and Rosie. Nibs stood guard in front of them with a hayfork. He brandished it towards Sam as the pony approached.  
  
"It's me!" shouted Sam as he trotted up, "Sam Gamgee! So don't try prodding me, Nibs. Anyway, I've got a mail shirt on, and you'd find it hard to skewer me."  
  
Jumping down from the pony, he went up the steps. Rosie and her mother were staring at him in astonishment. Although he did not fully realize it, Samwise Gamgee was not the same hobbit who had left the Shire the previous year. He was fitter, and dressed in fine clothes, and a light was in his eyes that the women had not seen before.  
  
"Good evening, Mrs. Cotton!" Sam said, "and Hullo Rosie!"  
  
"Hullo, Sam!" said Rosie, her eyes wide. "Where've you been? They said you were dead, but I've been expecting you since Spring. You haven't hurried, have you?"  
  
Sam felt suddenly shy. After all, his sweet hobbit heart had not changed, despite the other changes in him. "Perhaps not," he said, abashed, 'But I'm hurrying now! We're setting about the ruffians, and I've got to get back to Mr. Frodo. But I thought I'd have a look and see how Mrs. Cotton was keeping, and you, Rosie."  
  
'We're keeping nicely, thank you," said Mrs. Cotton, "or should be, if it weren't for these thieving ruffians."  
  
'That's why I've come," said Sam, "I've sent your men on to join Mr. Frodo, and Mr. Merry, and Mr. Pippin, near to town's center."  
  
"Well, be off with you!" said Rosie, "If you've been looking after Mr. Frodo all this while, what d'you want to leave him for, as soon as things get dangerous?"  
  
This was too much for Sam. It needed a week's answer, or none at all. He leapt back into his saddle, and turned his pony. But as he started off, Rosie came running down the steps after him.  
  
"I think you look fine, Sam," Rosie called, "Go on now! But take care of yourself, and come straight back as soon as you have settled the ruffians!"  
  
Sam galloped off down the lane, and Rosie watched him until he was out of sight. She turned and slowly mounted the steps.  
  
"Now what'd I say that for?" Rosie asked her mother, blushing a little although Sam had gone. "I hope I didn't fluster him overmuch. But he did look so fine, mother, in that armor and all. Don't you think so?"  
  
Mrs. Cotton smiled and put her arm over her daughter's shoulders. "Yes, he did. He looked wonderful. Now come on, m'dear. If there's battle brewing, there'll be wounded, and we can help prepare for that."  
  
"I knew he wasn't dead," said Rosie, as they entered the farmhouse, "I knew he was coming back, no matter what some of the others said!"  
  
Rosie's mother put a large kettle of water over the fire, then set Rosie at the kitchen table with a bundle of fabric. "I know, love, though I wondered how you were so sure. Still, I'm awful glad for you. I know how it woulda hurt ye if he hadn't come back."  
  
"Oh, Mother," said Rosie, blushing again, "Is it so obvious to you?"  
  
"It's obvious to everyone, m'dear," laughed Mrs. Cotton, "Except maybe to Sam. He's so humble, things like that just fly past him."  
  
Rosie began to tear the fabric into wide strips. The torn strips they put into the kettle, to boil clean. Mrs. Cotton rummaged in her cabinets, looking for herbs with healing properties.  
  
"Then what shall I do, Mum?" Rosie asked, "I shan't lose him again! I've never cared for anyone like I do Sam."  
  
Mrs. Cotton paused and smiled softly at her daughter. She was well above marrying age, and although Rosie had had suitors, some fine sturdy lads, Mrs. Cotton had never seen her daughter look upon any of them the same way she looked at Hamfast Gamgee's son. When Rosie was very young, Mrs. Cotton had thought it plain jealousy. Her boys and Sam would go tramping all over the Shire, and Rosie would always beg to go with them. Like as not, if they said no, she would still follow, tagging along after them like a small dog. "Go home Rosie!" Young Tom would say, not cruelly, for her brothers were never cruel to her, but firmly, "We are going to the stream to catch lillypuds, and I don't want you near the water!" Rosie would come home, dejected. She wasn't allowed to play near the swift stream, and she was an obedient child, but she longed to be part of their fun. Thinking back, the farmer's wife decided that even then, her Rose was drawn to Samwise, and he to her. He was only a few years older than Rosie, and he treated her as sweetly as if she were one of his many sisters. "Aw, Nick," she had heard him say once, when Mrs. Cotton was in the garden and the boys were playing in the lane just over the fence, "Let Rosie play too. She's strong and fast as any of us, and I like her!" Mrs. Cotton smiled at the memory.  
  
"Mum?" asked Rosie, snapping the farmer's wife from her thoughts, "Have you left me?"  
  
Mrs. Cotton smiled, "No, m'love, just thinking how as to answer your question." She sat down for a moment across from her daughter. "I think, if it were me, I should put it to him direct. Tell him just how you feel. Sam is bright as a new penny, but as I said, he's humble, and honest, and I don't think hints and such would ruffle his senses, if you take my meaning."  
  
"I do," said Rosie, "and I think you're right. When the time's right, I shall tell him, straight as a fencepost, and if he don't feel the same, well, then at least I'll know it."  
  
Mrs. Cotton patted Rosie's hand encouragingly. She had no real doubts about how Sam felt, but she wasn't going to presume anything, not until the fruit was ripe, so to speak.  
  
~TBC~ 


	2. The Lady's Gift

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 2: The Lady's Gift  
  
Rating: G  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sam was kept very busy once the ruffians were driven from the Shire. There was so much to do that, although Sam and Frodo stayed with the Cottons for many weeks, Rosie had no opportunity to speak privately with Sam. She watched him closely; however, and she caught him looking at her many times, and the look in his eyes encouraged her, though he always ducked his head swiftly when he realized she was looking. "I'll wait a bit," said Rosie to herself, "He's not ready yet, to have a real talk. He's still in this adventure, though they've come back. He needs all of his mind clear to help Mr. Frodo and the others setting the Shire to rights. I've waited a long time yet, I can bear a bit more." So Rosie waited, but she was as sweet and kindly to Sam as an elfmaiden, and she did not know it, but he was also watching her.  
  
Once the lockholes had been emptied, and the legal system put back in order, the hobbits set to work rebuilding Bagshot Row. Sam and his Gaffer did much of the work restoring the Gardens around the New Row. Hamfast Gamgee worked especially hard on the Bag End Garden. "I want ye to see nought but beauty when you look out yer window," he told Frodo on the morning that the brick was laid around the perimeter of the South garden. "Ye've seen enough ugliness and darkness for two lifetimes, from what my Sam tells me." Frodo said nothing, but placed his arm over the older man's shoulders and squeezed them gently in appreciation.  
  
Sam was most grieved by the loss of the trees. His tender gardener's heart was broken when he had seen the destruction caused by Saruman's evil designs. All the while when they were working on Bag End, he spoke of the trees. "Why, it'll be generations before the Shire is back as it should be!" he exclaimed to Merry one day, "My grandchildren will be lucky to see it as we have, all green with new spring, and the birds nestin' in every yard. It tears me up, it does!" And the other travelers (as they called themselves) could not console Sam on this particular point, although he remained cheerful overall, and put his back into all the extra work that was set before him.  
  
One day, many weeks after returning to the Shire, Sam was whistling up the path to New Row #3 when a sudden gust of wind caught him in the face. The breeze was from the west, and it was full of sweet smells. Sam stopped to inhale deeply. "Almost smells like elves, it does," he said to himself, and like a shock he remembered the Lady Galadriel, and her gift to him at their parting. He ran like a deer the rest of the way up the path and, passing #3, burst into Bag End.  
  
Frodo, Merry, and Pippin looked up from the table in surprise. Although Bag End was not yet remodeled, it had become a place of retreat and meeting for the Travelers. The four hobbits spent a great deal of time there, sitting 'round the provender and recounting details of their journey (though there were a few things they did not speak of), and discussing, as Merry put it, "Things what need doing!"  
  
"What Sam?!" exclaimed Frodo, "You know you've leave to enter without a knock, whenever you wish, but must you burst in, like one of Gandalf's fireworks?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, a bit breathlessly, "but I've just remembered - the Lady's Gift! Her gift to me in Lorien. Do you remember?"  
  
"Yes, Sam, of course I remember," laughed Frodo, "And I wondered when you would think of it."  
  
"Well," said Sam, "I haven't so much as opened it. And just now, I smelt the breeze, and it reminded me of elves, and well, I think it's time to take a peek inside, if you take my meaning. The thought came to me sudden like. You still have it, don't you Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Yes, Sam. It is safe in the chest. Draw it out, and we shall have a look!"  
  
Sam went to the back room, where Frodo kept a small but sturdy chest. It was made special for him by Elrond's folk, to keep the treasures of his journey in, for some of their things were too precious even for Michal Delving, and besides, the mathom hall would not open again for many weeks. Sam had pressed his gift into Frodo's keeping, having no chest of his own, and knowing that it would be safest among Sting, and the elven cloaks, and the Phial of Galadriel.  
  
Sam knelt and opened the chest, and carefully lifting aside his master's mithril coat, saw the box. It wasn't particularly beautiful, although the wood was smooth and the lid fitted flawlessly over the top. Carven upon the lid was a single letter: G. "For Galadriel, or for Garden," he whispered, remembering.  
  
He drew the box out, and replaced the mithril coat reverently, running his fingers over the cool silver, and thinking of all that had befallen them.  
  
He vividly remembered the first time he had run his fingers across that miraculous coat, in Moria. Moments before, he had feared Frodo dead, His mind had clouded with panic and his heart had cramped painfully in his chest. But Frodo had been alive. Bruised, but alive. Sam had reached out, fingers trembling, to touch the mithril coat that had stood between his master and death…  
  
"Sam!" called Pippin from the front room, (somewhat indistinctly, as his mouth was full of cake),"What's keeping you? I'd like to see your box, if you've a mind to share it!"  
  
Sam sighed and closed the chest, fastening the clasps securely. Then picking up the precious box, he trotted back to the front of the house.  
  
"Ah, here you are," said Merry, between bites, "We thought maybe you'd slipped down to the cellar for a beer!"  
  
"Nah, just thinkin' of old things," Sam said, sitting down, and he laid the box on the table. The others nodded. They often thought of "old things" themselves, both fair and foul. "But I would surely like a beer, if you've got it handy, and a bite!" said Sam, "I didn't realize it but I am that hungry."  
  
Merry pushed his plate toward Sam, who took a few bites, and Frodo poured his friend a drink.  
  
Pippin picked up the box and examined it. "And what's inside, Sam?" he asked, turning it over in his hand. It was not much larger than his palm, but heavy.  
  
"Let's see," said Sam, "The Lady said it was earth from her garden." He took the box from Pippin and turned it upright, gently working the lid loose. It was snug, but it slipped off easily enough, and when the hobbits looked inside they saw it was filled almost to the top with gray dust, soft and fine.  
  
"What shall I do with it?" Sam asked his companions, although ideas were already forming in his gardener's mind.  
  
"Throw it into the air on a breezy day, and let it do its work," suggested Pippin.  
  
"No, pick one spot as a nursery, Sam, and see what it does to the plants there," countered Merry.  
  
"But I'm sure the Lady wouldn't like me to keep it all for my own garden, now so many folk have suffered," said Sam.  
  
"Dear Sam," said Frodo, "Always thinking of everyone but yourself. But in this I think you are right. Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own, Sam, and then use the gift to help your work and better it."  
  
Sam looked at Frodo and nodded. His master was, as Sam had always believed, one of the wisest hobbits in the Shire.  
  
"And, Sam," added Frodo, his deep blue eyes serious, "Use it sparingly. There is not much here, and I expect every grain has a value."  
  
Sam took one finger and carefully dipped it into the center of the silty substance, and almost at once touched something harder. Ever so gently, he brushed the soil away and lo! Buried in the center was a seed, like a small nut with a silver shale.  
  
"I know exactly what I will do with this," said Sam confidently, and he brushed the dirt carefully from his fingers back into the box. He slid the lid back on, and placed the little treasure into his breast pocket.  
  
~TBC~  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events and much of the dialogue familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	3. The Invitation

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 3: The Invitation  
  
Rating: G  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The following morning Sam got up early. He packed some food, and several trowels, and the Lady's box, and taking his medium-sized barrow, he set out towards the South end of the Shire. He had begged leave of his master to stop work on the gardens and "see to the trees" as he put it, and Frodo had given him his blessing.  
  
"It's a wonderful idea, Sam," Frodo had said, squeezing Sam's hand, "You're as wise as old Gandalf, in a way!" And Sam had blushed, thinking the idea came more from the small box itself than from his own head.  
  
The dawn was still peeping over the hills as Sam trundled his barrow down the path. The trees were still thick in the Southern part of the Shire, perhaps because fewer folk lived there, and the plundering ruffians had concentrated their vandalism on the more habited areas. Sam knew every inch of the Shire, and he was heading for a young wood near a stream, not far from Farmer Cotton's land. There was something he needed, and he knew exactly where to find it. He whistled cheerfully as he walked.  
  
When he passed by the lane that led to the Cotton Farm, he stopped a moment. Thoughtfully he looked down the lane, and an idea came into his mind that surprised him.  
  
"Perhaps Miss Rosie would like ter come along on this little venture," wondered Sam aloud. He did not consider the Cotton boys, for knew that Young Tom, Nick, Jolly, and Nibs, along with their father, were busy helping to rebuild the important buildings in the heart of Hobbiton, and that atop of their own farming chores, which normally used up all of their time and strength. "She does love growing things, s'much as I do," thought Sam, "and perhaps she would like a bit of an adventure herself." Sam had not seen Rosie in many days, since moving back to new Row #3 with his Gaffer, in fact, and he was filled with a desire to see her.  
  
Sam turned down the lane, and trundled his wheelbarrow up towards the house, resuming his whistling. The sun was up now, so he knew the Cotton family would be moving about. Like most farming families, they began their day well before the Western stars went out.  
  
Sure enough, just as he reached the garden gate, Mr. Cotton appeared round the corner of the house, carrying a medium-sized piglet in his arms. The piglet was struggling to get loose.  
  
"Ay, Sam!" called Mr. Cotton, "Give me a hand, will yer? I've got my hands full 'o this piglet and I need the sty door opened."  
  
Sam dropped his barrow at the gate and hurried after the farmer, who despite his strength was having a hard time hanging on to the squirming animal. He trotted past the farmer to the sty, and swiftly opened the gate. Tolman dropped the piglet into the sty and shut the gate fast again, fastening the catch securely.  
  
"Whew - that'un gives me nought but trouble," sighed Mr. Cotton, drawing a sleeve across his brow. How he escapes so oft I cannot figger, yet half the mornings he's about running in the missus' garden, and he's nearly eaten all of her radishes!"  
  
Sam laughed, and turning to the sty, looked the fence and gate over carefully. He could see no weak spot, nor any place under or round the fence where a piglet could squeeze past.  
  
"Well, Sir," said Sam, "I canna see any place where a whopping big piglet like that could escape! He must be awfully clever, that one! What do you call 'im?" Sam gave names to all animals, and he felt sure that this cheeky piglet must have one.  
  
"T'aint got one," said the farmer with surprise, "Tho' my Rosie tends to give names to animals, even the piglets and the baby chicks."  
  
"Well," said Sam, leaning between the sty slats and patting the piglet's head, "I shall call you Gandy. For you're almost as much of a wizard as my dear friend Gandalf!"  
  
Laughing, the old farmer cleaned his hands on the pants of his overalls. "Well, Sam, what brings you to my home so early in the morning? I know ye didn't come to assist me with my pigs. Aren't you helping yer gaffer out up at the New Row these days?"  
  
"Yes Sir," said Sam, "but my master has released me, to do something special, and I was wondering if maybe Rosie would like to come along."  
  
The farmer laid his strong arm over the shoulders of the younger hobbit, suppressing a grin. "Well, lad, let's see then." They walked together around the path and back up to the round door. Entering the smial, they found Rosie and her mother, busy in the warm kitchen. Breakfast was laid on the table, and Sam felt his stomach rumble.  
  
"Why, Sam!" exclaimed Mrs. Cotton, genuinely happy to see him, "Come in! And sit down with us - are you hungry? Jolly and the other lads have had their breakfast, and are out in the fields already, but we were just about to have a bite, ourselves."  
  
"Well, yes, ma'am, I am that," admitted Sam, sinking to the table and glancing at Rosie with a smile. She smiled back, and Sam felt his heart flutter.  
  
The others sat down about the table, and set to. Sam had eaten a quick bite before he had left the Row, but that was nigh unto an hour ago, and it wasn't more than some bread and a bit of cheese. He had packed some food to take with him today, but he welcomed the hot eggs and sausages, and he thanked Mrs. Cotton and Rosie many times, between bites.  
  
When the hobbits reached the "filling the corners" stage, which didn't take long, Farmer Cotton sat back and lit his pipe.  
  
"Well, young Sam," he said, "Tell us of this venture yer settin' out on today. It must be important, for Mr. Frodo and your gaffer to give you leave from the garden work up at the Row."  
  
"It is, Sir" said Sam, "I'm to set the trees aright, all over the Shire!" and he showed them the little box of soil and the silver nut. He told them of the Lady's gift, and of the breeze yesterday, and of his plan.  
  
"Oh Sam, how wonderful!" exclaimed Rosie, "Could I come along, and help ye?"  
  
Sam grinned at her. "That's exactly the purpose for my coming by this mornin', if you take my meaning. I intended to ask ye along, but then we were dealing with l'il Gandy, and then breakfast."  
  
"Oh, yes!" clapped Rosie, looking for a moment like the young girl who tagged after them in childhood. "Let me change my clothes, Sam, and we'll be off straightaway!" She ran to put on some outdoor clothes, and Sam finished his mug, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve and thanking the Cottons again for their hospitality. Rosie was back in a wink, and taking up the barrow again, Sam headed southward along the path toward the young wood. Rosie skipped by his side, and her parents watched them as they moved down the path.  
  
Old Tom Cotton laid his arm around his mistresses' shoulders, and suddenly drawing her near, kissed her.  
  
"What was that for, ye old rascal?" asked Mrs. Cotton, pinching him playfully.  
  
"Just thinkin' romantic thoughts," he replied, as Sam and Rosie vanished into the distance. I think they'd be a fine match, don't you?"  
  
"Aye," said Mrs. Cotton, and her arm went round her husband's broad waist. "I hope she speaks soon, though Sam won't turn his eyes on another, I think." She bent her head to her husband's shoulder, and sent up a small prayer from her sweet hobbit heart.  
  
~TBC~  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events and much of the dialogue familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	4. Seeds and Saplings

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 4: Seeds and Saplings  
  
Rating: G  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Rosie's mind and heart were joyful as she walked with Sam down the South lane. Every few steps she gave a little skip, and she felt as happy as she had since she had seen Sam leap from the pony in shining mail two months ago.  
  
"So where so we start, Sam?" she asked.  
  
"Well," answered Sam, "First we'll be needing some saplings, and some seeds, to plant 'round the Shire. I was thinking the young wood yonder would be a good place to find 'em."  
  
"Yes," said Rosie, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders, "That wood is full of young growth, and those horrid ruffians never went down this way, anyhow. Partly because t'ain't much to plunder, and partly 'cause of my father. He stood up to them, many times, when they came down this way. He always had Nibs or one of the other boys watching the road, and if one of 'em came along, or even a group of 'em, he'd go running out to the road with his axe, just as you saw him t'other night, and usually with a couple of my brothers in tow, armed up the same. He managed to hold 'em back, too, and keep us safe. 'Course we are a ways out from the main part of town, and that helps a good bit."  
  
This was quite a long speech for Rosie, and she blushed a little, but Sam looked at her with respect.  
  
"Aye," he said, "I've heard of yer dad's bravery, and yer brothers' too. You ought to be right proud of 'em Rosie. I know I am, and Mr. Frodo, too."  
  
Rosie stopped him for a moment, laying her hand on his arm. "And you've been brave too, Sam, the bravest of all, from what I hear. And that ain't overmuch you know, though I'd dearly love to hear more."  
  
Sam blushed deeply, "I'd love to tell ye more, Rosie," he said, "but some of it's fierce hard, and dark, and I'm not ready to speak it all yet. But I'll tell ye all willingly, in time."  
  
Rosie smiled at him. "Then tell me whatever you are now willing to share, Samwise Gamgee, and only that much, 'til your heart can bear it!" And lifting her hand from his arm, she resumed walking alongside him.  
  
So Sam told her first of the elves, of Lorien, and more of the Lady Galadriel, since their errand concerned her gift. And Rosie listened raptly to Sam's descriptions of the great Mallorn trees, with their golden leaves and soft silver bark, and of the sweet elanor flowering in the green grass.  
  
"I'd dearly love to see it, Sam," exclaimed Rosie, "It sounds like stuff that dreams are made of, and you're like a poet when you speak of it."  
  
"Aye, you'd so love it," said Sam as they arrived at the young wood, and passed under the shadow of the green boughs. He laid a calloused hand on the bark of an ash. "These trees are lovely, but to compare them to Lorien, well, it can't be done, really."  
  
Sam and Rosie then set about searching for young saplings. They gathered all kinds, choosing always the ones that looked strong and fair, and using Sam's tools to remove them from the ground without causing hurt to the roots. The saplings they set in the wheelbarrow, and they had well over 20 when they paused to rest.  
  
"The sun's riding high now," said Rosie, "Let's have a bite. She washed her dirty hands in the stream and dried them on her skirt. She was glad that she had changed, and was wearing some rugged breeches under her skirt. This allowed her to stoop and kneel and bend, without fear of being immodest. They had been Jolly's breeches, but she had taken them when he got too big for them, and she had been doing the same for years. Her parents had no objection, as long as she wore them under her skirts, and not alone.  
  
"That girl does as much climbing and running as any of our lads," said Mrs. Cotton to her husband, "and many of the lasses do so now, in the spirit of modesty, and not its opposite."  
  
Now Sam and Rosie sat side-by-side, and dabbled their feet in the stream, and ate. After he had taken the edge off his hunger, Sam spoke again.  
  
"Next, Rosie, I'd like to gather some seeds. If yer not overtired, that is. All sorts as we can find, of sweet herbs and flowers and such. We won't find much 'round here, I fear, for winter's coming on, but we could ask folks to spare a bit of what they've got laid by, to fill in the gaps."  
  
"Overtired!" exclaimed Rosie with mock indignance, "Why Sam, you forget that I'm a farmer's daughter, and used to hard work." She grinned at him, but her heart sighed, and she thought, "I could work like this by your side for many days, Samwise Gamgee, and not tire at all, so glad am I of your company!" Yet she did not speak this thought aloud, for something in her heart told her to wait a bit longer. And she was content, for now, just to be with him and to hear his talk.  
  
After a bit of rest, they stood and went in search of seeds, and they were surprised to find many in the young glade, though they found no flowers. After this, they visited many farms and smials, and every hobbit who had seed gave some of it to Sam and Rosie, and the barrow was filled to overflowing with saplings and small packages when they returned to the Cotton farm near the setting of the sun.  
  
"Well, Sam," said Rosie as they walked tiredly up the path to her door, "What time shall we start tomorrow? At daybreak?"  
  
Sam looked at her and grinned. She had smudges of dirt on her face, and her curly hair was mussed, but her face wore a genuine smile, and he knew that she had enjoyed the day as much as he had.  
  
"Oh, Rosie," he said, "I'd love for you to help me again tomorrow, with the plantin', but are you sure your Mum can spare your help around the farm?"  
  
"I'll ask," said Rosie, and she ran up the steps, disappearing inside for only a moment, then popping back out. "She says of course I may go, and asks if you'd like to stay to dinner, Sam," said Rosie with a hopeful smile.  
  
"I'd dearly love to, Rosie," said Sam sincerely, "But I really must get back to my Gaffer."  
  
"Well, at least leave the barrow here, in the side yard," said Rosie, "and come back as early as you like, tomorrow."  
  
"I will," promised Sam, and he pushed the wheelbarrow to the side yard, then waved to Rosie before trotting back up the lane.  
  
Despite the hard work of the day, Sam felt very light, and he was grinning broadly as he ran.  
  
~TBC~  
  
*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events and much of the dialogue familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There may be slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings. If so, please forgive the oversight.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	5. Planting

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 5: Planting  
  
Rating: G  
  
A shorter chapter, but I wanted to leave you hanging, at least a bit!  
  
*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The next morning, Sam was at Rosie's door before it was fully light. She was up and ready, and she had packed food enough for both of them, for a long day's labor.  
  
"Let's go, Sam," she urged, "We can have a bite as we walk, and the more I think of your plan the more eager I am to begin!"  
  
So they ate a bit as they walked, and spoke little at first, being somewhat weary from their labors the day before. Sam was thinking of his Gaffer, and what the old gardener had said to him the night before. Sam had come in late, with a huge grin on his face and without his barrow, and the Gaffer drew the whole tale out of his son, down to the smallest seed donated, (which incidentally had come from Lily Boffin, one of the poorer hobbits. She had given Sam a little sack with a few marigold seeds inside, and it had been all she had, but she gave it over freely and the young hobbits were very touched. )  
  
"Well Sam," the Gaffer had said, "It was fine of ye to invite Miss Rosie along. Four hands make lighter work than two, and she's as fine a lass as is in all the Shire!"  
  
Sam quite agreed, and as he walked alongside Rosie, he resolved to tell her how he felt about her. Well . . . as soon as he could screw up his courage to do so, anyhow. For some reason, the idea of telling Rosie his feelings seemed more daunting than facing Shelob, and more difficult than the climb up Mt. Doom's side. "And that's plain silly, Samwise Gamgee," he told himself, but he said nothing.  
  
They started in the center of Hobbiton, and worked their way outward, planting saplings in all the places where specially beautiful or beloved trees had been destroyed. Sam put a grain of the precious dust in the soil at the root of each. Rosie went with him on most days, and they went up and down the Shire, but if Sam paid special attention to Hobbiton and Bywater, no one blamed him.  
  
As they worked, they talked, and always Rosie pressed Sam to tell her more of his adventures. Sam shared many things with her, and she was most enthralled with the story of Aragorn, and his Kingdom, and the Lady Arwen.  
  
"'Tis so lovely, Sam," said Rosie, more than once, "and so grand!" And she asked him for more details, until he had described every gown and plate and banner of Gondor  
  
All week they planted, and at last all that remained in the little box was the small silver nut, and a dusting of the fine soil.  
  
"You've made it last so long, Sam," said Rosie, "but this is the end of the Lady's soil. What will you do with the silver seed?"  
  
"I've thought long about it," said Sam, "and I've a mind to plant it where the party tree stood. Fer that's the tree I miss the most!"  
  
"Oh Sam, what a perfect idea!" said Rosie, and she caught his hand in her own. His heart gave a sweet flutter, and he blushed and smiled. But he did not pull his hand free, and she seemed content to hold it as they walked toward the party field.  
  
Hand in hand they walked to where the party tree had stood. And many hobbits saw them, and exchanged winks and smiles.  
  
Rosie's heart was pounding in her chest, and she held fast to Sam's hand, not wanting to break the contact for even a moment, now that it was established.  
  
~TBC~  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There may be slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings. If so, please forgive the oversight.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	6. Rose

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 6: Rose  
  
Rating: PG  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sam and Rosie reached the place where the Party Tree had stood, and Sam pulled his hand from Rosie's, but not before giving it a squeeze, and he knelt on the ground. With his strong fingers he made a hollow in the moist soil, and he placed the silver nut reverently inside. A pinch of the remaining dust he sprinkled upon the seed, and then covered it with the soft earth.  
  
For a moment he rested his broad palm against the ground, almost as if he was feeling for a pulse beneath the skin of the world. Then sitting back on his heels, Sam sighed.  
  
"Well, that's that," he said, and dusting off his hands, he stood up.  
  
"There's a bit left, Sam," said Rosie, looking into the box.  
  
Sam caught up Rosie's hand, and turning it over, carefully tipped the remaining grains into Rosie's palm. He shook the box a bit, and tapped it to be sure every precious bit was emptied.  
  
Rosie looked at the soft substance in the hollow of her hand, and then with a grin at Sam, cast her hand high into the air, and the breezes caught it, and carried the dust out over the field towards the center of the Shire.  
  
"Well done, Rosie," said Sam, "an' may the Blessing of the Lady go with it!"  
  
Rosie turned to Sam with shining eyes. "Oh, Sam," she said sincerely, "This has been the most wonderful week of my life!"  
  
"Aye," said Sam, "Nothin' gladdens the heart like the healing of hurts, and I'm happy, Rosie, that you helped me in it. No better company could I've asked for, and that's the truth of it."  
  
"Sam," said Rosie, and her tone was serious, "Let's talk a bit. There's something I've been meaning to tell you. And now seems just the right time."  
  
Sam's heart thumped against his ribcage. "Alright, Rosie, would you like to talk here, or shall we walk a bit?" He offered his hand to her.  
  
"Let's walk down by the lake's edge," she said, and she took his hand in hers, squeezing his thick fingers with her own slimmer ones.  
  
They walked over the field to the water, and for a few moments said nothing. But neither felt uncomfortable – only glad of one another, and pleased with what they had accomplished.  
  
Finally Rosie spoke.  
  
"Sam," she said, "I want to tell you something, and it's something from deep down in me heart." Sam squeezed her hand encouragingly, but did not answer. He sensed that she needed his ears right now, not his words, and he turned all of his attention towards her, tuning out even the sounds of the frogs and crickets near the water.  
  
"Sam," Rosie began, and Sam's heart again gave a sweet flutter. ("An' if how she says my name turns me ta jelly," he thought to himself, "I wonder what else she'll say, and if I can bear it!")  
  
"Sam, I love ye," Rosie said simply, "and I've been meaning to tell you for ever so long." She stopped walking, and turned toward him, searching his face and trying to still the pounding of blood in her ears. Sam returned her gaze, and then suddenly his gentle eyes filled with tears.  
  
"Oh, Rose," he said, catching her other hand in his, "Do ye? For I love ye too, and have, for so long."  
  
They fell into an embrace, and Sam wept, though he was not sure why. Rosie felt his strong heart pounding in his chest, and her own heart filled and overflowed with a joy she had not felt before. She turned her head and kissed his damp cheek. "Dear Sam," she said softly, "Dear, sweet Sam. Don't cry. Don't cry." But she discovered that she too was weeping. Sam felt as though his heart would burst, and he clung to her, and tears continued to roll down his wide hobbit face. "Rose, Rose, I love ye so. I'm so glad…" he whispered, but his words caught in his throat, and he could say no more for several moments.  
  
Rosie held him tightly, murmuring sweet words into his ear, and how long they stood there by the lake, embracing, she didn't know.  
  
Eventually Rosie spoke again, almost in a whisper. "Samwise," she said seriously, "tell me you won't be going off no more, at least not for awhile yet. Promise me. I couldn't bear it if you left me again, not for a day, I couldn't."  
  
"Nay," he said earnestly into her hair, "I won't be goin' nowhere. Not for a long while yet. Not for a long, long while, dear Rose. I promise ye that." And he kissed her cheek, as damp with tears as his own, and they sat down together by the water's edge. Rosie leaned against him, and they talked softly for many hours with their hands twined together, sharing all that was in their hearts for one another, until the sun sank below the horizon and their rumbling stomachs told them it was well past suppertime.  
  
~TBC~  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There may be slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings. If so, please forgive the oversight. 


	7. Farmer Cotton

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419  
  
CHAPTER NOTE: Chapter 1 has been changed a bit. Thank you to "Hobbits Rule" and "Elenillor" for the excellent suggestions.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 7: Farmer Cotton  
  
Rating: G  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Sam awoke the next morning, it was with a lightness of heart that he had not felt before. He had experienced more than most hobbits' share of both suffering and of joy, but he had never felt such a sweetness in his soul. "It's more inside-like," he thought to himself, "Lorien and the Lady, and Aragorn's coronation, and when they sang to Mr. Frodo an' me in Minas Tirith – all of that was joyful and beautiful and filled up the heart. But this is different somehow." All he had to do was picture Rosie's face, or think of her voice, and tingling shivers ran up his spine and fluttered in his chest.  
  
If Sam had considered keeping his newfound joy a secret, he would not have been successful. As he came in for breakfast that morning, a grin wider than Anduin was plastered upon his honest face. His Gaffer was standing by the table, finishing a quick bite before the day's work on the New Row Gardens, which were just about finished.  
  
"Well, son," said the Gaffer, suppressing a smile, "You came in awful late last night. Did ye finish all the plantin' of the saplin's and such?"  
  
"Yes," said Sam, taking a bite of biscuit and talking around it, "We finished 'bout mid-afternoon…"  
  
Hamfast Gamgee examined his son's expression, then burst out laughing. "Aye, an' ye spent the rest o' the day sweet talking with Miss Rosie, I'd wager. I can read it all over ye, lad, and glad I am of it, too."  
  
Sam grinned back, "Yep. We finally shared all that's been burstin' inside us, just yesterday. And today I must be off to see Farmer Cotton."  
  
"Aye," said the old gardener seriously, "Right off, too, I'd say. Rumors don't keep long 'round here, 'specially happy ones, these days. I suspect he knows already, but still, y'should speak up quick."  
  
"I mean to," said Sam, "Right away, if you can spare my help one more morning."  
  
"I've a feelin' I'll need to be doing without yer help oft', from now on," laughed the Gaffer, and he slapped Sam across the shoulders affectionately as he went out the round door.  
  
Sam finished breakfast quickly, and trotted off towards the Cotton farm. He received a few knowing smiles and nods from hobbits that he passed, and he guessed that many had seen the two of them, sitting by the lake's edge and talking the evening before. He ran a bit faster, eager to reach Farmer Cotton as quick as he could.  
  
When he arrived, he cast his gaze about the yard, and stopped to scratch Gandy over the sty fence. Not seeing the farmer, he climbed the front steps and rapped on the door. Mrs. Cotton opened it at once, and she was grinning at him, just like his Gaffer had. Sam blushed. "Morning, ma'am." Rosie suddenly appeared at her mother's shoulder. She smiled at Sam like the sunshine after a week's rain, and Sam grinned openly back at her.  
  
"All, right, Sam," said Mrs. Cotton, "I figger you're here to see my Tom, and truth be told, he's expecting you. He's round back at the fence, near the cornfield."  
  
"Thank'ye," said Sam, "I'll come back up after I speak with him, if that's alright."  
  
Mrs. Cotton reached out and patted Sam's arm, "You are always welcome Sam!" she said, and drew back into the house, tugging Rosie after her.  
  
Sam turned and trotted around to the back of the farmhouse, then down the fields towards the fenceline. It was a little ways to where the farmer was at work, and he looked up as soon as he saw Sam approaching, pausing and leaning on his axe. Sam ran up and stopped before the farmer.  
  
"Sir," began Sam, panting a little, "I need to speak with ye. It's about Rose."  
  
Farmer Cotton handed Sam a coil of rope and a small knife. "Well, lad, help me as you speak, if you don't mind. Cut me some lengths of rope, 'bout your height."  
  
Sam set to work, and Farmer Cotton resumed his axe-work, cutting a sturdy post to the length he wanted. The fence was in good condition, but some of the posts had begun to rot near the bottom, and Farmer Cotton was not one to wait until they tumbled over before making repairs. His was a farm to be proud of, and it showed in every building, in every line and curve, and in every beast and growing thing.  
  
After several moments of silence, Sam spoke again.  
  
"Mr. Cotton, Sir," he said sincerely, "I love yer daughter. I love Rose. With all my heart and soul I love her."  
  
The farmer set the post into a deep hole with a solid thump. He reached out his hand, and Sam handed him a length of rope. "Aye," said the farmer, bending and lashing the base of the post securely, "I've seen it – in her, and in you."  
  
"Well, Sir," said Sam, "I'd like to hear your word on it." He watched the older man intently. "Now that the truth of our feelin's is out, well, before we start courtin' officially that is, I'd like your blessing."  
  
Farmer Cotton straightened up. He wiped his hands on his coveralls, then turned to Sam, looking at him from under the brim of his hat. His eyes twinkled.  
  
"Sam, lad," he said, "You have it. My word and my blessing, that is. You're the best hobbit in the Shire, by my reckoning, and the missus's too, truth be told. Your courtin' our Rosie would bring us nought but happiness." He put a large calloused hand on Sam's shoulder. "And I'd dearly love to have ye as a son-in-law, Samwise, if't comes to that."  
  
Sam looked at Farmer Cotton gratefully. "Thank ye, Sir. It means a great deal to me. I wouldna felt right about it without your approval, and yer missus too."  
  
Old Tom Cotton slapped Sam on the shoulder. "Good! Then why don't you run on up to the house and see her; Rosie, I mean. I'm sure she's got her face plastered to the glass anyway, watching for ye, if she knows you're here."  
  
"She does," grinned Sam, "But could I come back and help with this fence, after I tell her? It'd go quicker with both of us, and I'm not needed up at the Row until afternoon." The farmer nodded, and Sam ran back up the field towards the house, as fast as his legs could carry him.  
  
~TBC~  
  
Notes: CHAPTER 1 HAS BEEN CHANGED A BIT. THANK YOU to "Hobbits Rule" and to "Elenillor" for the excellent suggestions.  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	8. Courtship

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1419, 1420  
  
  
  
Chapter Note: This chapter attempts to touch on the fact that Samwise was impacted deeply by the journey to Mordor. Although his hurt was not as deep as was Frodo's, I believe that he also suffered greatly because of the darkness they faced.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
1.1 Chapter 8: Courtship  
  
Rating: G  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Now that Sam was courting Rosie "officially," the news of it swept through the Shire like a wildfire. There were a great many other romances in the making that year, and as the winter deepened (although it was as mild a winter as the Shire had ever seen), many young pairs could be seen walking about hand in hand, or sitting side by side deep in talk. One of these was Sam's own younger sister, Marigold, and Rosie's oldest brother, Tom. Sam and Young Tom were the same age, born in the same year in fact, and Marigold and Rosie were just a year apart, so there were whispers among the older hobbits of a possible double wedding in the coming year.  
  
Sam and Rosie spent more and more time together, indeed whenever they could be spared from their other responsibilities. And there was plenty to do, around the Cotton farm, and up at the New Row, too, which was still being restored although a few hobbits were already living in it again. Sam was directing the cleaning up and restoration of Bag End, and he took great care with every detail.  
  
Once the healing of Bag End was well underway, Sam started taking walks over the Shire, checking on the plantings they had made, although there was not much to see yet; and the weather was fair enough that he was not overly worried about the young growth taking any harm from ice or snow. Sometimes Rosie joined him on these trips, but more often they had to make time for one another in the cool evenings, after the tasks of the day were finished.  
  
Many moonlit walks they took, often by the lake or in the young wood south of Rosie's, and they spoke earnestly of many things. And Sam at last told her the whole tale of his dark journey to Mordor with Frodo, and of Gollum, and of the Ring. The darkest bits he told with tears, his hands pressed firmly between Rosie's, and with her gentle eyes full of encouragement.  
  
"Oh, Sam, how horrid!" said Rosie one evening, her eyes round and troubled. Sam had just told her of Cirith Ungol, when he had feared his master dead, and had taken the Ring upon himself for a short time. He told her of the horror of Shelob, and the evil tower, and the search for Frodo, and their escape from darkness into deeper darkness.  
  
The telling had been hard for Sam, and his face and collar were wet with tears. "Dear sweet Sam, how did you bear it?" said Rosie, and she drew him into her arms and kissed his wet cheeks, and he was comforted.  
  
Sam found that sharing thus with Rosie was very healing for him. He had talked long with the other travelers about all of these things, and much also with his Gaffer, who always wanted to hear of the battles, and was more and more amazed by the great events into which his son had been caught up. But Sam did not weep with them, as he did with Rosie. Merry and Pippin seemed almost recovered from their adventures, and indeed seemed the merrier and stronger for them. And Sam was loathe to stir up Frodo's pain, which ran far deeper than his own, so he was as encouraging to his master as he had been on the long trek to Mt. Doom, and when he needed catharsis for the hurts in his own soul, he went to Rosie.  
  
She was a fabulous listener, and she would sit cross-legged across from him, holding his hands in hers and caressing his fingers gently as he spoke. She always kept her gaze fixed on his face, and her heart ached for him whenever his dear eyes leaked tears. Truth be told, she was also a bit awed – her Sam off saving the world with Mr. Frodo! And how close it had come, too! Almost the dark lord had triumphed, and almost she had lost her Sam forever. Rosie felt very small in the midst of these great events, but also very, very blessed.  
  
It must be remembered, however, that the outcome of all of Sam's adventures was ultimately of Goodness, and triumph; of the return of the King and the overthrow of darkness. Rosie was adept at steering Sam back to these happier memories. Often when the pain grew intense in his eyes, or if he had shared a particularly difficult memory, Rosie would smile at him softly and say, "Tell me more about Eowyn and Faramir, and Ithilian," or "Tell me more about the elves, Sam." And his heart and face would lighten, and he would chatter animatedly about the more joyful parts of his journey.  
  
Before winter's end, these happier memories had almost eclipsed the evil ones, and Rosie rejoiced to see it, for Sam was a cheerful and optimistic hobbit to his core, and none who loved him could bear to see him cast down.  
  
Frodo, too, seemed to be recovering from the spiritual wounding he received from his quest. In fact, in most ways he was the same hobbit who had lived peacefully at Bag End before the adventure began. That winter, he spent much time at the New Row's Bag End, which had been quickly cleaned out but was still being "fixed up." He said that the memories were sweet there, and reminded him of Bilbo, plus he wished to be involved with Sam in its restoration. Other days were occupied with his appointment as Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton. He had agreed to serve in the office while Will Whitfoot recovered from his long and difficult stay in Sharkey's lockholes, but all he really did as deputy was reduce the sheriffs to their proper functions and numbers. The chilly nights Frodo stayed with the Cottons, who had plenty of room, and whose home was not under construction. This proved very convenient for Samwise, who felt a need to be close both to his master and to Rosie, but who was staying with his Gaffer at New Row #3, so as to look out for him.  
  
If Frodo noticed the development of Sam and Rosie's relationship, he did not speak of it, but it can be assumed he was aware, since they behaved like two planets drawn towards the same sun. And all of the hobbits were kept busy through the winter, for although it was a gentle winter, food was short, and there were many other lingering effects of the ruffians' presence.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	9. It Is Gone

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
  
  
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Chapter 9: "It is gone…"  
  
Rating: G  
  
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Winter passed quickly, and melted into a Spring that surpassed Sam's wildest hopes. His trees began to sprout and grow, as if time was in a hurry and wished to make one year do for twenty. In the party field, a beautiful young sapling leaped up: it had silver bark and long leaves, and the travelers agreed that it must be a mallorn like the great trees of Lothlorien.  
  
Sam now took regular treks around the Shire, nurturing his saplings and checking on their progress. There was now much to see, and indeed the trees changed and grew almost before his eyes. Samwise Gamgee was many things, not in the least including a poet, and a warrior, and a fiercely loyal friend, but he was at his core a gardener and a lover of growing things, and Sam treated the saplings as if they were his own children. He would kneel and check the soil at the roots of each tree for moisture, gently pulling aside the earth and looking for signs of rot or parasites. He would then use his small knife to prick the bark, just enough to check the health of the wood, and he would examine the leaves, and all of the plants growing nearby. This took some time, and Sam was sometimes away from Hobbiton for a week or more, which Rosie liked not at all, although she understood, and loved the young trees almost as much as Sam, having worked with him in their planting.  
  
In Mid-March, when Sam was off on one of these forestry trips (it so happened it was the longest one of all), Frodo became ill. He was still staying at the Cotton farm at the time, and one morning did not appear at breakfast. As this was highly unusual, Farmer Cotton went back to check on him, and there was no answer to the gentle, then harder knock on the round bedroom door. Alarmed, Farmer Cotton pushed into the room, and found Frodo lying on the bed in a feverish state. He was clutching the white gem that he wore around his neck, and he was moaning. "It is gone forever…gone…all is dark and empty…it is gone…"  
  
The farmer called for his wife, who knowing much about illnesses, and being possessed of a sizable portion of hobbit sense, brought woolen blankets and cool cloths. She wrapped Frodo warmly and bathed his forehead, but he seemed unaware of her, and moved restlessly under the covers.  
  
"Rosie, run and get Meriadoc," she said to her daughter. "I know he is in town, and I think he will be up at the town hall, or else at the Whitfoots smail. I wish Sam was here, but Mr. Merry may know what to do."  
  
Rosie ran, and fortunately she found Merry even before she reached the town hall, walking along the road with several other hobbits.  
  
"Merry, come quick," Rosie called as soon as she was within earshot, "It's Frodo, he's ill, and mother does not know how to help him."  
  
Merry came at once, and looked at Frodo and felt his flushed skin, and the concern was obvious in his face. "I've seen this before," he said with confidence, "Tho' there's nought that I can do for him. The last time he was like this was back in October, on the same day as he was stabbed on Weathertop a year before. That anniversary was hard for him, and he was in a great bit of pain. Only lasted a day or two, though, and then he was right as rain again. What's the date?"  
  
"It's the thirteenth of March," answered the farmer.  
  
"Ah," said Merry, "let me think…thirteenth of March. I was in the Druadan Forest with Theodan… Pip was… oh! That was the day before Minas Tirith was besieged, so… I know!" Merry was very pleased with himself for solving the puzzle, although his brow was still furrowed with concern for his friend. "March thirteenth is the day Frodo was bit by that horrid big spider, that Shelob. The memory of the poison must be stirring in him now." Frodo groaned, and Merry laid a comforting hand on his friend's forehead, then turned to Rosie. "Where's Sam?"  
  
"He's off at the northern end of the Shire, tending to the saplings," Rosie answered, her voice taut with concern. "He's not expected back for at least a week."  
  
"Ah. Well, that may be for the best," said Merry, "If I know Sam, this would worry him overmuch, and he's got lots of other things to keep his mind on without getting worked up over something that will likely pass shortly enough."  
  
"What should we do for him?" asked Mrs. Cotton, "I've never seen a sickness quite like this – a memory sickness as you say."  
  
"Just set by him, and keep him warm, mainly," said Merry, "Be sure someone is with him when he wakes – that's real important. Oh, and if ye can find some Kingsfoil, it may be of help. Break it up and put it in warm water. Do it here in the room, so as he can smell the vapors. And bathe his face and neck with the water steeped with the leaves. Wonderful healing properties has Kingsfoil. I was tended with it myself, by Strider, I mean by the King Elessar, when I was hurt."  
  
"Sam told me all about Kingsfoil," Rosie put in. "I have some kept by."  
  
"Good," said Merry, "And I'll check back by after him later, but he'll be right again soon. And Rosie," he added, "I wouldn't mention this to Sam, unless it comes up on its own. He'll fret, and he don't need to be fretting, if it's past."  
  
Rosie nodded, and Mrs. Cotton thanked Merry, and he went on his way. They did as he had suggested, steeping the kingsfoil and bathing Frodo's face, and his neck where he had been stung. Nibs, the youngest of Rosie's brothers, happened to be the one sitting with him when he woke from his dreamlike state late on March the fourteenth.  
  
He roused just before suppertime, and sitting up said, "Hullo Nibs! Is it mealtime? I feel famished."  
  
"'Tis, Mr. Frodo," said Nibs, "Are you alright? You've been ill, you know."  
  
"I know. But I feel well now, and hungry!" and Frodo would not say more about his fit, and the Cottons' did not question him. He certainly did seem right as rain, and when Sam returned on the twenty-third, no mention of the incident was made to him.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events and much of the dialogue familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. For those readers with more discerning tastes, I shall give you fair warning of this.  
  
WC= 1037 


	10. The Question

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
  
  
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Chapter 10: The Question  
  
Rating: PG  
  
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On the first day of April, Sam took Rosie to the Party Field, for a picnic lunch and a serious question.  
  
They spread some blankets out at the base of the slender silver trunk, and then Rosie laid her hand on the smooth bark. "Sam, come and feel this," she exclaimed, "The tree feels so alive. I almost believe that it is aware of us." Sam came over and placed his brown hand next to Rosie's on the trunk. Sure enough, the tree was thrumming deep inside, as if it had a hidden pulse. "Look at the leaves, Rose," Sam said softly, "and there's not a breath of wind!" Rosie looked up and saw that the long green leaves were quivering, casting moving shadows on their spread blankets. They did not know it, but far off in Lothlorien, there was a breeze blowing, a strong one, and perhaps the fair tree could sense it, even though the distance was great.  
  
They sat down upon the blankets, and had lunch. Hobbits dearly love both talk and food, and will usually do both at once, but if they are very hungry, the talking can wait a bit. Sam and Rosie were quite hungry, having spent the morning helping Farmer Cotton build a new fence and gate for his pigsty. Although they had never figured out how Gandy was escaping, he was a good-sized pig now, and caused a lot of damage when he got out. The farmer had been locking Gandy in the barn overnight, but this was an imperfect solution. So they had built a fine strong new sty, and painted it clean white. Tomorrow the pigs would be relocated into the new structure, "And if that Gandy escapes from this one," said Sam, I will sit up all night watching him from atop the barn, and figger out how he's doin' it!"  
  
Rosie laughed aloud at the image of her Sam, sitting on top of the barn like a roosting bird, watching a pig all night.  
  
Sam smiled at her. "I love yer laugh, Rose," he said, "It's like elvish music!"  
  
Rosie blushed, "Aw, Sam, you say the kindest things. However did you learn to talk so sweet?"  
  
"From watchin' me Gaffer, o'course!" said Sam with a grin and a wink, "He may act kinda roughspoken, but you shoulda heared how he spoke to my Mum." Actually, this was quite truthful, and one of the reasons that Sam was such a good rhymemaker was because of the old Gaffer, who knew how to move words around, and made up many wonderful bedtime stories for his children, when they were young. Sam's tender heart, however, was his mother's gift to him. She had lavished all of the gentleness of her own sweet soul into her son. Rosie found this to be a delightful combination.  
  
They talked for a bit about the trees, one of their favorite topics, and how amazing the growth continued to be. "Why this tree right here only broke outta the ground last month, and it's taller than Mr. Merry already," Sam said, looking up at it admirably. "I've never seen things grow so!"  
  
"And the flowers, Sam," added Rosie, "Have you noticed the flowers? The seeds we planted with the Lady's dust have grown so much bigger an' brighter, and the scent of them is like…well, it's like what you would say – elvish, maybe."  
  
"It's true all over the Shire," Sam agreed. "Even the grass is growin' like it's trying to reach the sky!"  
  
"I know!" said Rosie, with another clear laugh that flipped Sam's heart over and over in his chest, "Jolly says that if this confounded grass doesn't stop growing, it will be taller than the corn, and he won't mow it no more!" Sam laughed aloud, imagining Rosie's brother standing next to the mower with his fists on his hips, grass waving higher than his head.  
  
"Why do you suppose it is, Sam?" Rosie wondered. "Do you think the goodness of the Lady's soil just spread underneath the ground, out from all the places we planted?  
  
"Aye," said Sam, "But even more than that, I think it's because of that last bit of dust, Rose, the bit you threw up into the wind. I think its goodness just blew over the whole land and gave it health."  
  
Rosie sighed happily. They had finished eating, and she moved over so that she could sit close to Sam and lean against his chest. Sam pressed his back against the young Mallorn, and putting his arms around her, kissed her behind the ear, breathing in the scent of her hair and thinking that she smelled every bit as sweet as the flowers growing all 'round Hobbiton.  
  
They sat thus for several moments, simply enjoying the sun and the tree and one another's presence. Then Sam kissed her again, on her soft temple, and spoke.  
  
"Rose," said Sam, "I've something I'd like to ask ye."  
  
Rosie said nothing, but her heart skipped a beat, and she ran her thumbs across his palms, to encourage him.  
  
"Rose, you know I love you," said Sam, "I love you more than I knew I could love anyone. You are more important to me than anything in Middle-earth."  
  
Rosie turned her head a little and kissed him at the corner of his mouth. "And I love you, Sam, just the same way."  
  
Sam's heart was pounding so hard that he was sure Rosie could feel it thumping against her back. "Just git to it, Samwise," he said to himself, "Just git it out, now."  
  
Sam took a deep breath. "Rose Cotton," he said, "I'd like to marry you, if yer willing. I love ye and I never want to be separated from ye, and, well, would you? Would you marry me, Rose?"  
  
Rosie turned her head again, but this time she kissed Sam on the mouth. It was a long, sweet, lingering kiss, and Sam felt as though bells were ringing in the depths of his soul.  
  
"Yes, Sam," Rosie said at last, removing her gentle lips from his, "Yes, yes, yes. Nothin' would make me happier in all the world." She brought her right hand up to Sam's cheek, and kissed him again. "And let's not wait long, Sam," she said earnestly, "We've lost a year already, and I don't want to wait much longer."  
  
"Aye," Sam agreed, "The sooner, the better – as soon as the arranging can be made." Rosie laid her head back onto his shoulder and snuggled against his strong chest, again taking both of his hands in hers. And Sam held Rosie against him, and kissed her hair, and learned suddenly that his heart could contain yet another level of joy.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these  
  
additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	11. Bag End

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter 11: Bag End  
  
Rating: G  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The week after Frodo's illness, which was the week before Sam and Rosie became engaged, Bag End on the New Row was finally, completely finished. If anything, it was cozier and more beautiful than the original. Sam had made sure of it. Merry and Pippin and Fatty Bolger brought up from Crickhollow two carts laden with all of Frodo's things from the house in Buckland. All of Frodo's friends pitched in, and they soon had everything ready. They had made Frodo promise to stay away from Bag End for two days, until they finished moving everything in, and until Sam was satisfied that everything was perfect. They were extremely pleased with his reaction. Frodo walked from room to room, exclaiming over and over his amazement and gratitude.  
  
By the time Frodo was settled into his home, almost everything in the Shire was back to normal; in fact better, for it was the most bountiful spring in memory.  
  
Sam was back to his normal routine as well, working for his best friend, and four days after Sam proposed to Rosie, he was weeding the garden at Bag End and whistling cheerfully when Frodo came out of the house and sat down cross-legged on the ground near him. "Hey Sam," he said, looking at the ground, "I'm afraid the garden is giving you a lot of extra work this year. Can I give you a hand with it?"  
  
"Oh, that's alright, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, sitting back on his heels, "It makes me glad. I just think about how it looked the day we rode up here to deal with that wretch Saruman, and I compare it to now, and it don't feel like work at all."  
  
Frodo smiled and nodded. He reached out and touched one of the flowers, and his eyes were full of memories.  
  
"Sam," Frodo asked, "Do I tell you often enough how much I appreciate you?"  
  
Sam blushed crimson, "Now, master, you know you don't need to tell me such things." He reached out and took Frodo's hand, "We've been through more together than most anyone has. You know I'd take an orc arrow for you without even blinkin'."  
  
"I know," said Frodo sincerely, "and I would for you, though I haven't always been as faithful as you, Sam." He squeezed Sam's hand, then looked off towards the east for a moment, and Sam was alarmed to see his master's eyes suddenly fill with tears.  
  
"Oh, Frodo, don't," said Sam gently, "don't think of it! It's all past. All that darkness is long over. Please don't think of it!" He pressed Frodo's hand between both of his own, as if he could somehow shelter the older hobbit's heart with the strength of his fingers.  
  
Frodo turned back toward Sam, his face full of gratitude, "Dear Sam, you are such a comfort to me. What would I do without you?"  
  
Sam said nothing, but stroked Frodo's hand reassuringly. He felt oddly torn inside. Such joy was within him over Rosie, and such pain over his friend and master. He was not sure how to reconcile them.  
  
"Sam," said Frodo in a lighter tone, "I almost forgot - I have something to ask you."  
  
Sam sighed inwardly with relief. Sometimes Frodo's sad moments were much more intense. This one seemed to have passed quickly. "What is it?" he asked, releasing Frodo's hand and picking up his trowel again.  
  
"Well," Frodo said, and his voice was merry again, "I was wondering, when are you going to move in and join me, Sam?"  
  
Sam felt immediately awkward. He shifted a bit uncomfortably.  
  
"There is no need to come yet, if you don't want to," Frodo quickly added, "But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will be very well looked out for by Widow Rumble."  
  
"It's not that, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, and he went very red.  
  
"Well, what is it?" Frodo asked, pretending bewilderment. He suspected that he knew exactly what it was, but he was determined to make Sam say it out himself.  
  
`It's Rosie, Rose Cotton," said Sam. "It seems she didn't like me going abroad at all, poor lass; but as I hadn't spoken, she couldn't say so. And I didn't speak, because I had a job to do first. But now I have spoken, and she says, `Well, you've wasted a year, so why wait longer?' `Wasted,' I says, `I wouldn't call it that.' Still, I see what she means. I feel torn in two, as you might say." Sam looked at the ground.  
  
"I see," said Frodo, and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement, "You want to get married, and you want to live with me in Bag End too? But my dear Sam, how easy! Get married as soon as you can, and then move in, with Rosie! There is room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for!"  
  
Sam looked up, and seeing the laughter in his friend's eyes, broke into a grin. "Do you mean it, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, "Could we? Ah, that would be so wonderful!"  
  
"Yes, Sam," Frodo agreed. "Of course I mean it. Bag End is too big for one hobbit, and there is no one in middle-earth who I would rather have with me than you and Rosie."  
  
Sam suddenly embraced him, "Thank you, Mr. Frodo," he said, "You've taken a great load off me mind and heart. I couldn't bear to choose between you and my Rose."  
  
"Ah, Sam," thought Frodo to himself, returning the embrace, "You have chosen, and chosen well, and it is a good thing, Sam. I want nothing more in all the world than for you to be happy." But he did not say this aloud. And Frodo's heart was as filled with joy as it had been since he returned from his journey.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without the introductory comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events and much of the dialogue familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	12. Moving In

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
Note: Another Sam & Frodo chapter. Don't worry, there will be plenty Sam/Rosie chapts coming. I just can't neglect this relationship!  
  
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1.1 Chapter 12: Moving In  
  
Rating: PG  
  
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Sam was elated.  
  
It was one week until his wedding, and he felt as if he was walking around an Ent's height from the ground all of the time. The past three weeks had been a flurry of preparation and changes.  
  
The first order of business had been to talk with Rosie about the idea of living in Bag End. Sam felt a little chagrined that he had so eagerly accepted this arrangement without speaking to his betrothed, but Rosie was as enthusiastic as Sam, and she hopped up and down and clapped her hands.  
  
"Oh, Sam, how lovely!" she exclaimed, "I would adore living in Bag End! And I shall certainly see more of YOU if we stay with Mr. Frodo," she added with a wink.  
  
"Aw, Rose," Sam had said, a bit embarrassed because it was true, "You'll be seeing as much o'me as you like, whenever you like."  
  
"I plan on it," Rosie replied coquettishly, and she put her arms around Sam's neck and gave him a deep and lingering kiss. "I expect you to be at my beck and call, at all times, Mr. Samwise Gamgee."  
  
Sam returned the kiss eagerly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing her soft body against his own. "Yes'm," he murmured, "at all times, for always and forever, sweet Rose."  
  
The wedding was planned for the first of May, one month after their engagement, which wasn't much time to plan for a wedding according to the standards of the big people, but which was plenty of time for Hobbits, who would much rather wed in the sunshine under a tree than in a great hall bedecked with silver and gold.  
  
Sam spent part of this month moving his and Rosie's few things into Bag End. Frodo had generously given them the entire back end of the smial, which included a very large bedroom, a bath, and two smaller rooms. One of the smaller rooms had a fireplace and two round windows. Frodo suggested that this would make a lovely sitting room or parlor.  
  
"It's really too much, Mr. Frodo," Sam had said to him, one afternoon when Frodo was helping him to move in and arrange the last of their few things, "All we need is a room and a bath, really."  
  
"Nonsense, Sam," said Frodo, "I expect a small Gamgee within the year, and you and Rosie will need lots of privacy to accomplish that. I am taking the very front room for my own bedroom, nearest the kitchen, and the two of you can have most of Bag End for your own."  
  
Sam blushed, "Aw, don' embarrass me, master. How will I be able to focus on Rose if I'm thinkin' of you sittin' in the front room an' smoking your pipe?"  
  
Frodo grinned. "But embarrassing you is so easy to do, Sam," he said, "How can I resist? Besides, I am serious. You deserve all of the pleasure and joy that Rosie can give you. And I'll be spending the first week at the Cotton's anyway, NOT sitting in the front room, so you will be able to give Rosie your undivided attentions."  
  
Sam laughed, "Now I will picture you AND me in-laws, all smoking your pipes together on the Cotton's front porch. I don't know which is worse!"  
  
Frodo laughed with him, and they returned to their work for several minutes.  
  
"Frodo," Sam said seriously, pausing for a moment, "You make my heart so glad. You have given me far more than I need."  
  
"I could never repay you for Mordor, Sam, never," said Frodo, giving his friend a brief but sincere embrace, "Now, let's see if this chimney is cleaned out well enough to light a fire, shall we?"  
  
Sam laughed, "You forget, Mr. Frodo, I am the one that directed the restorin' of this place. Gandalf could wipe the sleeve o' his white robe up in that flue and it would come out just as bright as it went in."  
  
Frodo laughed aloud, and clapped Sam on the shoulders. "I believe you Sam!" He went to get some firewood from the pile, and sure enough a cheery blaze was easy to kindle, and the smoke was drawn up the chimney and out into the bright spring air.  
  
Sam stood back and looked at the room. It really was as cozy and cheerful as could be, and yet another wave of gratitude washed over his heart, so intense that it brought tears to his eyes.  
  
"I am the luckiest hobbit alive," thought Sam.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these  
  
additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	13. Planning

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
1.1 Chapter 13: Planning  
  
Rating: G  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Rosie was elated.  
  
It was one week until her wedding, and Rosie felt as if strains of beautiful music accompanied her everywhere she went. Just the thought of Sam, much less of the wedding itself, sent her heart spinning into somersaults of joy.  
  
The previous three weeks had been a whirlwind of preparation, and Rosie had been overwhelmed with all of the offers for help. In particular, she had been growing extraordinarily close to Sam's younger sister, Marigold, who was planning her own wedding for June. Although she had known Mari all of her life, she had never grown close to her. After Belle Gamgee had died unexpectedly, Marigold had ended up going to live with her older sister Daisy's family for several years. Marigold was a very sensitive, almost delicate little thing, and had taken her mother's death particularly hard. She had needed more comfort than Hamfast Gamgee had been able to offer her at the time, and being particularly close to Daisy, had been living on the West side of the Shire for most of her tweens and young adulthood with Daisy, her husband, and two young sons. Young Tom Cotton had at first courted Marigold from afar, writing her beautiful letters, and she had finally come back to Hobbiton to live.  
  
The first order of business had been invitations. The two girls sat for hours in the Cotton's kitchen, usually with Rosie's mother and two or three others, writing invitations for both weddings, and giggling, and planning for the ceremonies.  
  
"I'm afraid we are not giving much notice," said Rosie, one morning when it was just the two of them. She sealed an invitation with lavender wax, and added it to a growing pile in the center of the rough table. "I do hope everyone will come."  
  
"Of course they will come, silly," assured Marigold, "As if YOU will notice with your eyes full of Sam!"  
  
Rosie grinned but didn't blush. "I can't wait! It's so odd – all those years I waited and I waited, and it didn't seem at all long. But now that I am down to a week's wait, I feel as if I will burst!"  
  
"Aye," said Mari, "I feel much the same about Tom, tho' I have a month more than ye." She reached over and grasped Rosie's hand, "I am so glad we are going to be sisters, Rosie!"  
  
"Me, too." Rosie agreed.  
  
"And you must promise to tell me all about the wedding night, so I won't be nervous when my time comes." Marigold said.  
  
"I will do no such thing!" Rosie replied indignantly, but she laughed and squeezed Mari's hand.  
  
As soon as the invitations were signed, sealed, and sent out, replies started to come in, and Rosie needn't have worried, for everyone was eager to come. Even Gandalf sent word that he would do his best to be there for the blessed event, although he was very busy here and there over middle- earth, helping to drive out the remnants of darkness, and spending a great deal of time with the elves.  
  
It was decided that Sam and Rosie would be wed beneath the mallorn tree, which had nearly doubled its height since Sam's proposal. In fact, the tree looked as if it might burst into bloom any day. "An wouldna that be perfect?" Sam thought, caressing the smooth silver trunk one afternoon. "Perhaps it will bloom, and we can wed standing 'neath the golden flowers."  
  
As for flowers and refreshments, there would be no lack! Flowers were bursting into bloom all over the shire, and one of the favorite pastimes of young hobbit lasses (especially when a wedding is approaching) is to weave beautiful garlands of flowers. There were very many weddings planned for this Spring, although Sam and Rosie's was the first one in Hobbiton, and all of the girls in town seemed to be busy weaving and braiding flowers into beautiful garlands and wreaths and bows. And there seemed to be no lack of flowers, no matter how many were picked.  
  
The fruit and grain were also plentiful, so much so that even by April the short-lived food shortage of the previous winter was completely forgotten. Rosie's brothers gathered wild strawberries, and plums, and peaches by the bucketful for the wedding feast, and Farmer Maggot's wife sent word with her reply that she would be honored if Sam and Rose would allow her to provide the wedding cake (one of her many special talents).  
  
Mrs. Cotton insisted on sewing Rosie's wedding gown herself -- something she had been longing to do ever since the girl-child had been laid in her arms over 30 years before. She had to work quickly, but she took the greatest care with every hem and line, and she wove into the fabric images of leaves and birds and other beautiful things. She was determined that her Rose would have the most beautiful dress, and indeed the most beautiful wedding, in the history of the Shire.  
  
~TBC~  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	14. Bloom

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
1.1 Chapter 14: Bloom  
  
Rating: G  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Two days before his wedding, Sam was rudely awoken by loud banging and even louder shouting on the door of his bedroom in New Row #3.  
  
"Sam, Sam! Wake up, you ninnyhammer!"  
  
Sam groaned. He could tell by the light pressing against his eyelids that it was well past sunup, but he was exhausted. He had been up very late the night before, and although his stomach was ready for morning, his legs and back and head were not.  
  
"Sam Gamgee! If you don't open this door, I shall hop in through the window!"  
  
"Mr. Pippin?" Sam's eyes flew open, "Pip, is that you? By the Valar, where do you get your energy?" Pippin, Sam knew, had been up as late as he, for they were both at Bag End until well after midnight the evening before.  
  
"Yes, yes, Sam – get up. You must see this!"  
  
Pippin sounded excited. Of course, Pippin usually sounded excited, but he obviously had something up his short sleeves, so Sam hopped up and unlocked the door.  
  
"Sam, get dressed, come quick! Why do you have this door locked anyways? You have to see this – you won't believe it! It's amazing!" Pippin was practically jumping up and down.  
  
"You have to ask why I lock my bedroom door?" Sam asked grumpily, pulling on his trousers, "Isn't it perfectly obvious? I had me Gaffer put the lock on this door before you were walking on your own furry feet! How did you get in the smial anyways?"  
  
"Aw, the front door's never locked, Sam. Here, I brought you some breakfast from the kitchen." Pippin laid a plate of sausages, only slightly cold, and biscuits on a small table, then straightaway picked up one of each and set to himself.  
  
Sam gratefully fell to as well, and between the two of them, the plate was cleared in a minute's time. Within 10 minutes of Pippin's first knock, he and Sam were out of the round door and trotting towards the party field. Pippin refused to say another word about what was exciting him, but Sam didn't have long to wait.  
  
Before they were within a stone's throw of the mallorn tree, Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Pippin went several more strides before stopping and turning towards him, a huge grin plastered across his impish face. He watched amused, as Sam first brought both hands to his chest, then sank suddenly upon his knees. Pippin ran back to Sam.  
  
"Get up Sam, and come see it," He urged, "I know how you feel, but come close!" He tugged Sam back up and pulled him towards the mallorn. Sam followed like a hobbit in a dream, not even noticing that Frodo and Merry also stood near the silver beauty.  
  
When they were within a few feet, Sam finally found his voice. "Now that's an eye-opener, and no mistake." He said with wonder.  
  
The Lady's mallorn tree, which now towered to almost the height of the mill, stood tall and strong in the middle of the party field. The trunk was smooth silver, soft as elven rope, and the branches were full of long green leaves. The branches were also full of golden flowers, bright as the morning, covering every bough as if the entire tree had burst into bloom overnight (which in fact it had).  
  
Sam stood still, looking up at the tree, and fat tears rolled unrestrained down his cheeks.  
  
"It's a wedding gift. From the Lady Galadriel, Sam," said Frodo quietly, coming over and laying his hand on Sam's arm. "Merry saw it first thing this morning."  
  
"Aye, ain't it lovely?" put in Merry, "Last night it was just buds, no flowers at all, but look at it now! I'm no gardener, but I never saw a tree burst into bloom like that all in one night. Have you Sam?"  
  
Sam shook his head slowly, "Nay. Not all in one night. It's the most beautiful sight!" He stood dumb for several moments, then suddenly he shook himself. "I have to tell Rose!" he exclaimed, and without another word turned and pelted back up the path.  
  
The other three hobbits laughed, watching him go, then turned back to the tree and laughed some more, for pure joy. They lay down on their backs in the green grass, looking up at the golden blooms and talking of the Lady and of Lothlorien until Sam returned with Rosie in tow. He had done to her what Pippin had done to him, telling her simply to come and see. And she reacted much the same way that Sam had, with both awe and tears. Eventually Frodo, Merry and Pippin left them standing beneath the tree in one another's arms and went back up to Bag End, bringing with them a handful of blossoms to sweeten the air of the smail.  
  
~TBC~  
  
CHAPTER NOTE: I realize that according to Tolkien's timeline, the mallorn tree bloomed on April the 6th, over three weeks before Sam & Rosie's wedding. I changed it for Sam's Tale, purely for dramatic effect, and with a deep bow od apology to Mr. Tolkien.  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I may include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	15. From Gondor

1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
1.1 Chapter 15: From Gondor  
  
Rating: G  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
On the day before Sam & Rosie were wed, several interesting things happened. One of the most interesting was the arrival of Gandalf. He came galloping up on Shadowfax in the morning of the last day of April, sending many hobbits running for their homes, for they had not seen him since he was transformed, indeed since before Frodo left on his long adventure, and they did not recognize him. Nor had they ever seen a horse as great as Shadowfax, or as beautiful.  
  
"Confounded nuisance, Sam getting married just now," said Gandalf to Frodo, after dismounting and sending Shadowfax off for a graze in the party field, but his eyes were twinkling, "almost I couldn't make it, but your last letter nearly broke my heart with guilt – so I had to come."  
  
"I'm glad you've come, Gandalf," said Frodo, "even if I had to beg you. If anything, I am more eager to see you than Sam."  
  
"Indeed," said Gandalf, setting a large bundle inside the door of Bag End. "I don't doubt it." Then he laughed aloud and embraced Frodo, and his laughter was like the pealing of bells.  
  
"Tell me how things are," said Frodo, once they had gone in and Gandalf was settled with his pipe and a cup of tea. "Have you seen Bilbo? What about King Elessar and the others? Are all the orcs destroyed? Have the elves decided when they are going?"  
  
"One question at a time, Frodo my lad," laughed Gandalf, "you are much changed, but not in your curiosity!"  
  
At that moment, Sam came bursting in to Bag End himself.  
  
"Gandalf!" he cried, stopping short when he saw the wizard, and then running into his embrace, "I don't believe it!"  
  
"Hullo, Sam," said Gandalf, "I hear you are getting married tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes, sir," said Sam, grinning up at him, "To Rose Cotton, at 10 o'clock, at the mallorn. I hope you will come."  
  
"Silly hobbit, why do you think I am here?" chuckled Gandalf.  
  
Sam looked chagrined. "Well, I'd hoped so, but there's lots of more important things that could bring ye to the Shire, Mr. Gandalf."  
  
Gandalf laid his hand on Sam's curly head. "I can't think of any more important than your wedding, Samwise Gamgee!" and he laughed merrily.  
  
Sam and Frodo laughed too, then Sam suddenly remembered that he was in a hurry. "Oh! Mr. Frodo, I nearly forgot. Me Gaffer sent me running up here quick to tell you that there's a big post for you down in Hobbiton. He saw it when he was down this mornin', and he wants me to ask if ye'd like us to bring it up to Bag End. It's wrapped all strange and has Gondor markings on it, and he thought it might be important."  
  
"Well, Sam, of course! You've always leave to pick up any of my posts, you know." Frodo replied, amused.  
  
"I know, master, but me Gaffer always wants things done proper." Sam ginned and ran back out the door.  
  
Gandalf chuckled, "Still haven't cured him of calling you master, eh, Frodo?"  
  
"No," sighed Frodo, "I've told him time and again he needn't, but still he does. Touches my heart all the same, though, every time he does it."  
  
"Ah, well, I can see that it would. He really is a remarkable hobbit. Just as you are, dear Frodo," Gandalf said with a smile, and he patted Frodo's shoulder.  
  
They had hardly completed their catching up of news when Sam returned, with Hamfast Gamgee, and they were pushing the large wheelbarrow, upon which was balanced a large wrapped package. The package was addressed 'To Master Frodo Baggins, Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire. ME-NW. Delivery urgent before April's end, Shire Reckoning.' It was sealed with the symbol of a white tree flowering under seven stars.  
  
"Ah, the King's marking!" exclaimed Gandalf.  
  
"It must be from Aragorn!" said Frodo, immediately tearing off the seal and beginning to unwrap the package. Within the heavy paper, he found 4 smaller packages, all individually wrapped. Each had an attached message written in beautiful script.  
  
Frodo read the first one aloud:  
  
"From the House of Elessar, High King of Gondor;  
  
Holder of the Sceptre of Arnor; Greetings!  
  
Dearest Frodo,  
  
I hope and trust that you are well and  
  
that The Shire is in order by the time  
  
of this writing. Much glad news has reached  
  
me in regards to your land and your circumstances,  
  
and I hope to come soon myself and bring the  
  
Lady Arwen to see your fair land. She also sends  
  
her fondest thoughts towards you and your kin.  
  
This package is for you, my friend, something  
  
I would have sent with you had I possessed it  
  
at the time we took leave of one another.  
  
The other three packages are for Sam and his  
  
bride, along with our deepest wishes of joy and  
  
blessedness.  
  
With sincere hopes of seeing you before long,  
  
Aragorn, son of Arathorn  
  
High King of Gondor  
  
And below, in another hand, less flowery was added:  
  
Frodo, my scribe thinks this is a shamefully crude  
  
letter, but I see no reason not to speak to you  
  
as I always have. Return post as soon as you are  
  
able, dear friend. –Strider"  
  
Frodo looked up, smiling at Sam and the Gaffer, who both stood with their mouths agape.  
  
"For me? For us? For Rose and I - from the King?" Sam managed to say after a moment.  
  
"Yes, Sam, you ninny," laughed Frodo, "From Strider. And the Lady Arwen. For your wedding! But don't think of opening them without Rosie!"  
  
"Open yours, then, Frodo," suggested Gandalf. "Let us see what the King has sent!"  
  
~tbc~  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I plan to include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	16. Frodo's Gifts

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
1.2 Chapter 16: Frodo's Gifts  
  
Rating: G  
  
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Gandalf, Sam and the Gaffer watched with intent interest as Frodo carefully pulled the heavy paper away from his package,  
  
There were actually two items in the package. The first was a bound volume with a deep blue leather cover. Frodo opened it, and upon the first page was scribed the following, in what he had learned to be Aragorn's strong hand:  
  
Frodo, one of the tasks I have put to my scribes  
  
is the organization and copying of the old records  
  
of Gondor. There are many faded hides and leaves  
  
that cannot be recovered, and I wish to preserve  
  
all that can be saved. While busy at this task, one  
  
of them chanced upon a volume which mentions  
  
Pheriannath, in several places. He came to me with  
  
it, recognizing the term and guessing rightly that  
  
I would wish to be informed. This document appears  
  
to be from the second age, and I felt sure you would  
  
find it useful and interesting. So I bade the scribe to  
  
copy and bind it for you, which he has done with great  
  
care, and here it is in full. Although I have not read  
  
it myself as yet, it is my hope that it will be of use to  
  
you in your research.  
  
With much affection,  
  
Aragorn  
  
Frodo gently turned a few pages of the book. It was written in bold, clear script, mixed with many runes and some illustrations. It was beautiful. The others crowded around and looked as Frodo leafed through it. There were well over 50 pages.  
  
"A kingly gift, indeed," said Gandalf, "Clearly he took great care to have this done for you."  
  
Frodo closed the book gently and ran his fingers over the cover. "Yes. I am moved." He handed the book to Sam so that he could examine the other item. Sam pressed the precious volume to his breast and watched as Frodo lifted a wooden box from the wrappings. It was larger than the Lady's Galadriel's gift to Sam, but also made of smooth wood, and it was detailed with delicate gold about the corners and edges, and the hinges were gold, as was the small catch.  
  
Frodo slipped off the catch and opened the box. In it was a short note written in a new, lighter hand, and a smooth round stone, about the size of a fist, milky white with a hint of soft green.  
  
Frodo picked up the note and again read aloud:  
  
"Dearest Frodo,  
  
This is an Ondo Seere, called a Peace Stone  
  
in your tongue. It is wrought by my people,  
  
and very rare. When your heart is troubled,  
  
placing your hand upon it will perhaps bring you  
  
inner rest. It is a vessel of music as well, when  
  
the need is near. May it serve you well.  
  
Arwen"  
  
Frodo lifted the stone from the box. It was very heavy, but small enough to hold in one hand. It was cool and smooth to the touch, and seemed to thrum against his hand. As he held it, warmth seemed to pass up from his palm, through his arm, and into his body, stealing across his shoulder and into the center of his chest. Even the deep coldness of his old shoulder wound was touched, and Frodo gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes.  
  
"Frodo," Gandalf asked gently after a moment of silence had passed, "May I?"  
  
Frodo opened his eyes, and handed the stone to Gandalf, who took it carefully and looked it over.  
  
"Ah, Frodo," he said, "This is a most precious gift. They are not ancient, as are the palantir, but these take much art and much love to create, and they are not common." He handed the stone back to Frodo. "Aragorn told me while we were all still in Gondor that he desired to obtain one for you, for he had seen one at Rivendell long ago, and he knows your pain. It seems the Lady Arwen has helped him to achieve this goal. I wonder if she wrought it herself."  
  
Frodo offered the stone to the Gaffer, who had been standing with round eyes throughout the entire unwrapping. He took it gingerly in his large calloused hands, then wrapped his fingers around it. A broad grin spread across his features. Then, without warning, tears sprang into the corners of his eyes. Embarrassed, he removed one hand from the stone and wiped his face on his sleeve, handing the stone back to Frodo. He swallowed with difficulty then looked up.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, sir, I'm sorry. It's just…" Again tears appeared and threatened to fall. "It's lovely, sir. It made me feel as if my Bell was here, for a moment it did. Pr'haps this is what my Sam means when he says 'elvish' about things."  
  
Sam put his arm over his Gaffer's shoulders.  
  
"Yes," said Frodo gently, smiling at the old hobbit, "This is exactly what he means, Hamfast. And you may hold it again later, for a longer time, if you would like." He looked at Sam with a question in his blue eyes, and Sam returned the smile and shook his head very slightly, indicating that he did not need to touch the stone right now.  
  
Frodo laid the stone reverently back into the box and closed the lid. He fastened the catch and took the blue book back from Sam.  
  
"Well," said Gandalf, with an amused smile, "I am even more curious now about your packages, Sam."  
  
~tbc~  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I will include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	17. Sam's Gifts

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
1.2 Chapter 17: Sam's Gifts  
  
Rating: G  
  
CHAPTER NOTE: I would like to specifically thank my dear friend Fionnbharr, also an author on fanfiction.net, for help concerning Aragorn's gift to Samwise  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
The opening of Sam's gifts had to be delayed until the afternoon, because Rosie was very much occupied that day with her mother, who was putting the finishing touches on her dress. Marigold was helping. She had come to the Cotton Farm to tell Rosie about the packages, and was waiting to bring her back when Rosie could be spared. They had worked all morning on Rosie's wedding promises (Hobbits always write their own), then eaten a quick lunch, then worked on the dress until midafternoon.  
  
"Ow, mum! Be careful!" Rosie flinched as her mother adjusted the hem under her arm.  
  
"Sorry, love," Mrs. Cotton mumbled through her pins. "I am almost done now."  
  
"There's a loose piece of lace here," put in Marigold, pointing to the back of the bodice.  
  
"Thank you m'dear. I can fix it once it is off her," said Mrs. Cotton. "Okay, Rose, let me see you." She held her daughter's hands and backed up to arms length. "Ah, you are the picture of loveliness! You will knock Sam over onto the grass!"  
  
"Gracious, mother, I hope not!" exclaimed Rosie with a grin. She wiggled out of her dress and handed it to her mother, kissing her squarely on the cheek. "But thank you. Thank you for everything."  
  
Mrs. Cotton lifted her hand to her daughter's cheek. "Aye, you're well worth it, love. And I think I can finish without another fitting, so run on up to the Row and see what it's all about."  
  
Rosie gave her mother a hug and another kiss, then taking Marigold's hand, ran from the farmhouse and up the path.  
  
They arrived at Bag End rather out of breath, and were surprised to see that the company had grown. Merry and Pippin and Fatty were there, as was Young Tom Cotton, who beamed at Marigold and took her hand from Rosie's. The Gaffer was not there, having gone back to #3 to attend to some other things, but Sam was, and Gandalf, and all of them were engaged in animated talk and the sharing of afternoon tea.  
  
They swiftly gave chairs to the girls, and drinks, and cakes, and for a little while laughed and talked together.  
  
Finally Pippin could stand it no longer. "Sam, she's here now. Don't you think it's time to open 'em?"  
  
"Aw, Pip, maybe they want to open them in private, later," said Merry, but his eyes twinkled with the same curiosity.  
  
Sam got up and retrieved the three packages from the counter, then coming back to the table, sat next to Rosie, placing his left hand around her waist as he sat down. He smiled and pushed the first one towards his betrothed with his right hand.  
  
Rosie leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek, then removed the note from the package, unsealed it, and read:  
  
"For Samwise Gamgee, and Rosie Cotton,  
  
Congratulations and wishes for all  
  
happiness. This is a new craft that we  
  
have developed, And I hope it will bring  
  
you joy. From Gimli, son of Gloin, and his kin."  
  
Rosie tore the paper off carefully. Inside was an intricate looking contraption, wrought of a metal she did not recognize. On one side was what looked like a key, and attached to the key was a small note that said simply: "turn."  
  
Rosie twisted the key, then released it, and to everyone's astonishment, the contraption began to sing! So startled was Rosie that she nearly dropped it, but instead she laid it upon the table. Small moving parts could be seen within the beautiful thing, and a sound like delicate instruments came from it. After a moment, it ceased moving and fell quiet.  
  
"Is it magical?" asked Pippin with awe in his voice. "It's a little like the magical toys from Dain at Mr. Bilbo's birthday party so long ago. But much more complicated looking."  
  
"No, I think not," said Gandalf. Looking to Sam for permission, he picked up the device and turned it in his hands. He wound the key and watched carefully as the device began again to emit music. "See the key pulls this coil of metal tight (he pointed through an opening) and then as it uncoils, it moves these small wheels, which causes the metal parts to strike against each other. How amazing!" He handed it to Merry who was practically bouncing up and down. "Be careful, Merry, it looks a bit fragile."  
  
Merry, Pippin, Tom, Marigold, Fatty, and Frodo all looked at the contraption and turned the key, and all agreed that it was simply amazing. After a bit, it was set aside, and Sam took up the next package.  
  
He read:  
  
"For Sam and his bride,  
  
Greetings from Mirkwood! I will soon be traveling  
  
again to Gondor, to assist the King in the restoration  
  
of Ithilian and the White City, but I wished to send  
  
these to you first, as I received word that you were  
  
to be wed. The first requires no explanation, and comes  
  
from my forest and also from Fangorn, by the leave  
  
of Treebeard. May they bring you joy in the Spring of  
  
your land. The second is for your wedding ceremony,  
  
if you should desire to use it. My people use a cord  
  
such as this in weddings, and it bears great symbolism.  
  
If you choose to use it so, I have written instructions  
  
for you. If not, may it be of use to you in other ways,  
  
as I know that you love the craft of rope making.  
  
May the stars shine upon your faces,  
  
Legolas Greenleaf"  
  
  
  
Sam lifted from the package a soft wallet of leather, which when opened revealed a rather large quantity of seeds. They were twisted into small packages with labels, names of the various plants it can be assumed, and some had specific notes such as "needs much water" or "place in shade" or "good for eating." Most of them Sam did not recognize.  
  
Rosie grinned widely at the look of joy that had come across her Sam's sweet face. She squeezed him around the middle. "More planting for us, Sam!" she cried happily, "and more elvish growing things. How wonderful!"  
  
Sam set the packages down with reverence and reached for the other item. It was a rope. But it was unlike any rope that Sam had ever seen. It was soft and silky like the ropes of Lorien, but much, much thicker, and ornate – made of strands of deep greens and blues and browns, and russets, and it had silvery glints shot through it, as if mithril itself was woven into it. It was not a long rope, perhaps half of an el in length, but each end held a tassel, and it was clearly a thing of value. With the rope was a short list of instructions for its use in a wedding, which Rosie picked up and began to read silently.  
  
After all had admired the rope and the seeds, Sam reached for the largest package. The one from the King. He offered it to Rosie to open, but she pushed it back towards him and resumed reading.  
  
Sam opened it, and lifted out a folded bundle of heavy fabric. A note was attached in Aragorn's hand that said simply:  
  
"For Sam, from Strider and his house.  
  
May it bring to your home beauty and  
  
fond remembrance. How I wish I could  
  
be with you as you join your life to  
  
another's. Know, dear friend, that I  
  
understand your joy, and my heart cries  
  
out to yours in kinship across the leagues."  
  
Sam wiped tears from his eyes, then stood up, and taking the fabric by the edges, allowed it to unfold. It was a tapestry.  
  
There was a gasp from Frodo, Merry and Pippin, and Gandalf raised one eyebrow. Sam tried to look at it, but he was behind and above, and could not get a good view.  
  
Gandalf reached out, and taking the tapestry, turned it to face Sam and Rosie, who had looked up. And now they both gasped as well. Rosie because she was struck by its great beauty and detail, and Sam because of the depiction woven upon the fabric.  
  
"Now that," said Merry with an awestruck voice, "That is a kingly gift, indeed."  
  
~tbc~  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry to leave you hanging but this chapter is far too long already. Next chapter is the wedding. I will come back to the tapestry after the wedding, I promise.  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile.  
  
Rating: The first several chapters are rated G or PG; however, eventually I will include a sweet romantic chapter, or more than one, involving Sam and his Rose. 


	18. The Wedding

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
CHAPTER NOTE: Tolkien is quite silent on the subject of weddings, other than some limited discussion of eldar weddings, and a few isolated mentionings such as Aragorn's wedding. However, Tolkien did allude to the fact that Hobbits were very much like humans, and I choose to believe that their wedding traditions, like others of their traditions, were very similar to our own. This wedding is how I imagine Sam's wedding.  
  
SPECIAL THANKS and HUGE HUGS to Divastar79, also an author on this site, for her suggestions, ideas, and priceless assistance into the wee hours of the morning, regarding this most blessed event!  
  
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1.2 Chapter 18: Wedding  
  
Rating: G  
  
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The morning of April the first dawned clear and beautiful, as if the sun and the earth were as joyful as the hobbits about the coming day. Hobbit weddings are generally simple affairs, filled with flowers and followed by plenty of joviality. Sam and Rosie's wedding was no different.  
  
By early morning, the Party Field was already busy with hobbits, setting up the food and tables for the feast to follow, and laden with armloads of flower garlands to decorate the mallorn and the surrounding area.  
  
Rosie and her mother arrived shortly before the hour of 10:00, and Rosie was ready. She was in the dress that her mother had made for her, and it was wondrous fair to see. It was embroidered all over with images of flowers and birds, and trimmed with delicate lace. Marigold bustled around her, pinning flowers into Rosie's hair and laughing merrily.  
  
The groom was up at Bag End, with Frodo and his Gaffer.  
  
"Do ye have the rope?" he asked his Gaffer, for the third time, smoothing his weskit.  
  
"Yes, lad, I have it," said the Gaffer. "Don't worry yourself. Getting married is not like slaying great spiders or climbin' fire mountains. Just say the words and it's over."  
  
Sam took a deep breath. Frodo clapped him across the shoulders and said, "He's right, you know. Let's go, Sam."  
  
As Sam walked from Bag End to the party field, flanked by Frodo and his Gaffer, his heart resumed it's hammering against his ribcage. He tried to go over his wedding promises in his head, but could not focus his mind.  
  
"This is it, Samwise," he said to himself. "Just you calm down and keep yer head. It'll be done soon enough. Just…"  
  
At that moment, Sam came to the edge of the field and saw that it was filled with hobbits, and tables laden with food, and with gifts, and all was bedecked with bright flowers. He looked about, but did not see Rosie, at least not yet. He did not realize he had stopped walking until Frodo put his hand on his elbow and pulled him back into motion. A cheer went up from some of the guests as Sam approached the Party Tree, and sensing that the wedding was about to begin, the hobbits began to seat themselves on the grass.  
  
Sam, Frodo and the Gaffer reached the tree. Farmer Cotton was there, and Gandalf, who winked at Frodo. He had a special surprise planned. Sam continued to look about, not seeing Rosie but knowing that she was there, and hungry for the sight of her. Frodo's voice brought him back to himself.  
  
"Are you ready, Sam?"  
  
Sam looked at him. "Well, yes sir, as ready as I'll be gettin', I suppose. Let's start."  
  
Frodo nodded, and stepping forward, waited for the guests to be silent. When nothing could be heard but the breeze in the mallorn, he spoke.  
  
"Sam has asked me to be chief witness today of his wedding to Rose Cotton. As such, it is my duty and privilege to welcome you all and thank you for coming." At this point the guests gave a cheer. Frodo continued, "As Deputy Mayor, I also have the great honor of presiding over the ceremony. Sam and Rosie mean a great deal to me, and I would like to thank Mayor Whitfoot for this opportunity."  
  
The mayor, who was seated near the front, waved his hand graciously towards Frodo.  
  
Frodo turned and hugged Sam, then stepped back behind him. As he did so, Sam suddenly saw Rosie.  
  
She was standing behind where the guests were seated, and she was clothed in flowing white. Her hair was full of flowers, and upon her face was the most beautiful smile that Sam had ever seen. Tears sprang to his eyes unbidden, and as she came towards him he struggled not to weep.  
  
She walked slowly, mainly because she had several small hobbit girls dancing around near her feet and throwing flowers into the air, into her path, and among the guests. But she seemed not to notice them, as her eyes were fixed on Sam's face.  
  
After an eternity she reached the mallorn, and coming forward, offered her hand to her father. Farmer Cotton took it. He reached out for Sam's hand and placed Rosie's into it, covering them both for a moment with his own. Sam looked at the Farmer with his face full of gratitude, and ducked his head in a slight bow. Tolman Cotton turned and kissed his daughter on the cheek, then returned to stand near Gandalf.  
  
Turning towards Frodo, Sam and Rosie clasped hands as if they were holding one another upright.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, Deputy Mayor, sir," said Sam, unsure of the correct title for such a situation, "Miss Rose Cotton and I wish to be wed. Will ye hear us?"  
  
"I will," said Frodo, his eyes merry.  
  
Sam turned to face Rosie again, and he took her other hand in his own. This was the difficult part, and it was so very hard to concentrate with his heart pounding in his breast louder than Moria drums. Sam took a deep breath and looked into Rosie's eyes. Clearly and openly she looked back at him, and Sam suddenly felt calmer, as if they were sitting together by the lake, having one of their long talks, and not standing in front of half the Shire.  
  
"Go on, Sam," Rosie breathed in a whisper too quiet for any but him to hear, "It's just us, love."  
  
Sam took another deep breath.  
  
"Rose Cotton, " he said, speaking loudly so that all of the assembled could hear, "I love you. And I promise to love you - for as long as there is breath in my body, or strength in my limbs, or thought in my mind. I don't ever want to be parted from you, and I promise to be faithful, and true to you, and to defend you if you ever need it, and to care for you for as long as ye live, weather you be well or ill, strong or frail." Here Sam paused, struggling again against tears, and swallowed hard. "I pledge myself to you, Rose Cotton, by all that I am, for ever." He stopped speaking, looking deeply into her eyes, and ran his thumbs lightly across the backs of her soft hands.  
  
Rose smiled at him, returning the caress before she spoke.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee," she said at last, " I also love you. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I have never loved another, and I never will. I waited a long time, Sam, for your return, but I would have waited a lifetime for you to come back to me." At this point Sam lost his battle with himself, and did begin to weep. Rosie smiled sweetly at him and continued. "I promise to be faithful to you always, Sam, and true to you with my whole heart and soul, and to care for you in every way I can for as long as I live. I pledge myself to you, Sam."  
  
With an effort, Sam turned his head slightly toward the Gaffer, who had not missed his cue and was coming to stand near them. In his hands he bore the ornate rope sent from Mirkwood by Legolas. They had decided to use it, though not precisely how it was used in elvish weddings. The Gaffer was profoundly nervous when he learned that as the father of the groom, it was his role to play, but he agreed regardless.  
  
Hamfast gently uncoiled the beautiful cord, and he wound it around first his son's, then Rosie's hands, which were still clasped together. When he had finished, he laid his hand on top of theirs and cleared his throat. "Let all witness that these have been bound together, body and soul, for all their lives." He kissed Rosie on the cheek, then stepped back to his place.  
  
Sam and Rosie looked up at Frodo, who was beaming.  
  
"Heard and witnessed," said Frodo, his voice full of laughter. "And as Deputy mayor of Hobbiton, I officially declare that Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton are wedded together!"  
  
Sam slipped the rope from his hands, and lifting both palms to Rosie's face, he kissed her. Rosie kissed his mouth, and then his tears, for Sam continued to weep, unashamed. A huge cheer went up from the hobbit guests, but Sam and Rosie did not hear it, so lost were they in one another.  
  
At that moment a bright phalanx of birds launched themselves from the branches of the mallorn tree. They rose singing into spirals over the Party Field, swooping in beautiful arcs of red and yellow and blue and green. Then suddenly they burst into showers of sparks, and fell like jewels over the hobbits, who jumped up and at once began the after-wedding celebration.  
  
Sam, who had pulled back from Rosie when the flock had appeared, twined his arm around her waist and turned towards the wizard. "Well, that was something special, Gandalf," he said with a grin. "Do you have any other surprises up your sleeves?"  
  
"We shall see, good Samwise, " laughed Gandalf. "But for now, you two have at least eleventy-one guests to greet - so get on with you!"  
  
Rosie and Sam turned, and handing the rope back to the gaffer, went as husband and wife to join the feast.  
  
~tbc~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile 


	19. The Feast

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 19: Feast  
  
Rating: PG  
  
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"Just look at them, Pippin," said Merry, gesturing to the dance area, where Rosie and Sam clung to one another.  
  
"What? Huh?" asked Pippin, somewhat indistinctly as his mouth was full of strawberries.  
  
"Look how happy they are," Merry said.  
  
"Eh? So?"  
  
"Pippin!" Merry said, annoyed, "Don'tcha ever wanna get married?"  
  
Pippin choked on his berries, and Merry had to pound him on the back until he could speak again.  
  
"Married?!" Pippin spluttered at last, "Are you daft? How much fun do you think we would have if we were married?"  
  
Merry looked at him with a serious face. "A lot of fun, Pip, or don't you know what married couples do in their own smials?" He elbowed the younger hobbit.  
  
Pippin shoved his cousin, "Of course I know, ninnyhammer! But we'd have to work, Merry, and take care o'babies and such. I'd much rather tramp around the Shire and have fun!"  
  
Merry rubbed his arm where Pippin had pushed him, but said nothing. Pippin watched him for a moment, then his eyes widened.  
  
"Oh no," he said, shaking his head, "Merry, don't tell me ye've got yer eye on some lass." He grabbed his cousin's hand, "Don't do this to me, Merry, don't grow up on me - not yet."  
  
"We are grown up, Pip," said Merry, "but don't worry. I'm not ready quite yet to settle down."  
  
"Good," Pippin said, relief coloring his voice. "Let's go get some more food."  
  
As they ran off, Gandalf set off another shower of butterflies, All of the fireworks he had brought for Sam's wedding (and he had not brought many) were of flowers, and birds, and butterflies. "Not near as exciting as old Bilbo's party back in 1401" Young Tom had commented to Marigold, "Those fireworks were dragons, and spears, and great trees! But then again, I never did see fireworks at a wedding before! I wonder if we could get some for our wedding next month?"  
  
Sam ran his hands slowly up and down Rosie's back. He loved the feel of her wedding dress, silky beneath his fingers yet ridged with embroidery. Of course, he couldn't help thinking about the skin beneath the dress. Tonight he would be running his hands over her without the dress – without anything. His face reddened against her soft shoulder despite himself.  
  
As if she could feel the turn of his thoughts, Rosie turned her head, placing her mouth against his ear. "I love you, Sam," she breathed softly, "I can't wait until we are alone."  
  
Sam tightened his arms around her, pressing her firmly against him. A soft whimper escaped from his throat into her hair, and he kissed her behind the ear. "Aye," he whispered back, "Aye, love. I feel the same."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Sam started, shocked by the tap of a hand on his shoulder. He and Rosie pulled apart abruptly. It was Frodo, grinning as if he had been up to some mischief. "Are you going to hog the bride all afternoon, Sam?" he asked.  
  
Sam would have blushed, if he had not already been scarlet. "No, you can 'ave a dance, Mr. Frodo, so long as ye give her back to me."  
  
Frodo laughed aloud, "Of course Sam!" and he bowed to Rosie, offering her his hand. The music had picked up, and they capered away into the crowd. Before Sam could fully register that she had been removed from his arms, his sister Daisy grabbed his hands and swung him into the dance.  
  
The feasting and dancing lasted until almost sundown, which was quite long for a morning wedding. The hobbits ate and drank almost more than they could want, and the musicians had to change often, as someone was always wanting to dance. Many songs were sung, and poems spoken, and it was the first of many memorable weddings of that Spring. At one point, Frodo recited the ballad of Beren and Luthien the Fair, which he had committed fully to memory. Most of the hobbits had never heard it, and they called for a second recitation, despite its length.  
  
At sundown, Sam's friends began to carry the gifts up to Bag End, stacking them neatly in the parlor. As if this was a signal of some sort, the hobbits began draining their mugs and gathering flowers (it was traditional to take flowers home from a hobbit wedding, for good luck, which was why so many flowers were needed), and those who were to clean up started to work.  
  
Sam stood awkwardly near the mallorn, with Rosie beside him, shaking hands and hugging the many hobbits who came to give them a last congratulations before heading home. Sam felt odd, seeing others clean up while he stood in honor.  
  
"Reminds me of Minas Tirith," he thought, "When we were the honored guests and ever' one waited on me and Mr. Frodo alike. Don't seem right, somehow." But he said nothing, having enough sense to know that he and Rosie were the reason for the party, and this was one of those occasions where too much humility was not appropriate.  
  
"Sam," said Gandalf, who had come up to give his good wishes, "Congratulations." He bent down and hugged the hobbit, then shook his hand for good measure. "I have a gift for you, Sam, and I would very much like to give it to you tonight, before you retire to Bag End. It may be useful to you." Gandalf winked. "Find me before you go up."  
  
Sam watched him as he walked away. Curiosity battled with embarrassment in his heart. What could Gandalf give him that would be useful tonight, of all nights?  
  
Sam had to wait another hour to find out. It seemed as if every hobbit in the Shire had attended his wedding. By the time he had bid goodnight to everyone, the stars had started to come out in the eastern sky.  
  
Sam found Gandalf sitting by the mallorn, smoking with Frodo. Rosie had gone to say thank you to her parents, who were gathering up the last of the flower garlands, so Sam was alone.  
  
"Ah, Sam," said Gandalf, "Good. Here." He handed Sam a small package plainly wrapped in brown paper.  
  
"Open it, Sam," urged Frodo.  
  
Sam tore off the paper, revealing a pure white candle, very fat, with a luminous blue wick. Sam looked at it quizzically.  
  
"It's a candle." Sam said, uncertainly. "Thank you, Gandalf, it's lovely."  
  
"It is not just a candle, Samwise," said Gandalf, "It is a forbidding candle. I made it."  
  
"Forbidding candle?" Sam asked, confused.  
  
"Yes. Light it, and set it near the door in Bag End. It has some magic in it, Sam, that will give you a guarantee of privacy. If anyone has it in their heart or mind to come to Bag End, the thought will leave them as they draw near. In fact, no one will come within 5 or 6 ells of the candle, yet they will not know what has turned them away, or even that they have been turned away."  
  
Sam looked at Gandalf, his eyes serious, "I don't know what to say, Sir." He said at last.  
  
"Dear Sam, I am sure that no one will disturb you tonight." Gandalf said with a chuckle, "The entire Shire knows that this is your wedding night. But the candle will last for many, many nights, and tonight especially you will need confidence of your privacy. It may free your mind from worry, Samwise."  
  
Sam looked at Gandalf, awe and embarrassment tangling in his mind. "Thank you, Gandalf," he said at last, "Thank you."  
  
"It's a perfect gift, Gandalf," put in Frodo, speaking seriously so that Sam would know he was not being made fun of. "Sam does tend to worry, and perhaps this will help him not to."  
  
With that, Frodo jumped up to his feet, laying his pipe down on the grass. He embraced Sam fiercely, holding him a long time.  
  
"Go now, Sam," he said at last, pulling back but maintaining his grip on Sam's arm, "I have all my things from Bag End, and all of the gifts and leftover food have been moved there for you and Rosie. You won't be disturbed for a night and a day, at least, and longer if you light Gandalf's candle."  
  
Sam looked at his master, tears glistening in his eyes. "Thank you, Frodo," he said with an effort, "for everything." And turning on his heel, he ran to find Rosie, clutching the precious candle in his hand.  
  
~tbc~  
  
WARNING: CHAPTER 20 WILL BE RATED R. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. IF YOU DO NOT WISH THE VISUALIZATION OF SAM & ROSIE'S WEDDING NIGHT, THEN DON'T READ IT!  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile 


	20. Wedded

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 20: Wedded  
  
Rating: R  
  
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FINAL WARNING: This chapter is rated R. If you are offended by descriptions of sexual interaction, DO NOT READ IT.  
  
To all who do read it ( ;-D ) this is new territory for me. I truly hope that my characterization remains intact and that I honor the spirit of both Tolkien and Master Samwise in this chapter.  
  
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Sam lifted his hand and traced his fingers over the edge of the tapestry. It was so beautiful, and stirred up such feelings…  
  
They had hung it in the little parlor, on the opposite wall from the fireplace, so that no smoke would come near it. It was large, and Sam knew it must have taken Arwen and her maidens many hours to make. He was moved every time he looked at it. Sam touched the image of himself, woven near the center, of fine thread so lifelike that his face and hair were wrought of several subtly different colors. He sighed audibly.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Sam turned towards Rosie's voice.  
  
She stood framed in the doorway of the bedroom ("our bedroom" corrected Sam with an inner smile), framed in firelight and candlelight. She was still in her wedding dress, and the light danced over it like the colour of a sunset upon new snow. A couple of stray flowers still clung to her hair, which she had unpinned to let fall in loose curls about her shoulders.  
  
Sam went to her and took her into his arms. He pulled her against himself and kissed her above the ear.  
  
"Oh, Rose, I love you," he said, almost in a whisper.  
  
In answer, Rosie turned her face and captured his mouth in a deep kiss. She put her arms around his middle and pressed his body close. After several moments, she lifted her mouth from his. "Did you light the candle, Sam?" she asked.  
  
Sam nodded, "Aye," he replied, a little breathlessly. He had explained about Gandalf's candle when they were walking up towards Bag End, and Rosie had laughed. In truth, Rosie felt no need for such a talisman, but she appreciated that Sam might, just to keep his mind clear, and she was grateful to the old wizard.  
  
Rosie smiled at her husband, stroking his face with her smooth hand. "Good," she said. Never removing her eyes from his, she lifted his hand and placed it upon the center of her breast.  
  
Sam could feel Rosie's heart thumping against his palm through the silky cloth. Her breathing was rapid, and her eyes were like deep green pools filled with the reflection of stars. Sam kissed her brow, then the corners of her eyes, then her cheeks, then her lips; and as he kissed her, he brought his other hand up and began to unlace the bodice of her dress. Rosie, impatient to help, tangled her fingers with his as they pulled the slender ribbons free. Sam then brought his hands up to her soft shoulders, and slowly swept the cloth down her arms to her waist.  
  
He took a small step back and looked at her, holding both of her hands in his own. He sighed. Rosie smiled at him, then pulled her hands loose and reaching down, slipped the dress and her petticoats from her hips to the floor.  
  
Again Sam looked at her, with the firelight flickering across her naked skin, and tears came to his eyes.  
  
"Oh Rose," he said, "You are the loveliest thing I have ever seen. Truly you are." He traced a gentle hand along her collarbone, then down her chest, bringing it to rest again above her swiftly beating heart.  
  
She tilted her mouth against his again, kissing him fiercely, and he placed his arms around her, holding her to himself and stroking the silky skin of her back. Slowly he ran his hands up and down, from the curve of her shoulders to the round softness of her behind. She was velvety beneath his fingers, softer to the touch than the petals of any flower he had tended in his long years of gardening. Rosie moaned softly, and Sam's own heart pounded against his ribcage with astounding force.  
  
"Oh Sam, I've wanted this for so long," she said against his mouth.  
  
"Aye," Sam managed, "I too. I love you Rosie, sweet Rose." Sam followed the line of her neck down with his mouth, planting soft kisses along her throat and upon her chest, and murmuring words of devotion between each one. Rosie gasped as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, gently suckling it like a sleepy newborn. When he moved to the other one, Rosie sought the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning the two that were within her reach. Sam, without stopping his tender caresses, quickly unfastened the rest, allowing his shirt to fall to the floor. Straightening up, he pressed Rosie against him again, delighting in the feel of her slightly damp, hardened nipples against his curly chest. He again kissed her, long and deeply, and another soft cry escaped her throat.  
  
Rosie's hands moved eagerly over Sam's broad back, eventually coming down and around, to the waistband of his breeches. She looked up into his face. He was flushed, but whether it was shyness or the firelight or the heat of passion, Rosie did not know. Slowly, almost timidly, Rosie moved her hand down, resting it on the bulge pressing against his breeches. Sam gave a soft moan, involuntarily pushing his hips forward against her hand.  
  
"Come on, Sam," Rosie said, taking his hand in hers and drawing him towards the bed. She laid back upon it, beckoning to him. For a moment he stood still, again simply looking at her, and again tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He could not believe that she was his, that she loved him, that her beauty could smite his heart more deeply than the beauty of Lothlorien.  
  
He came to her and climbed into her arms. With whispers of love she welcomed him, wrapping her soft arms around his shoulders and caressing him.  
  
"Oh, Rose, you are so beautiful. What have I done to deserve you?" Sam murmured against her neck.  
  
"Shhh," said Rose softly, kissing his brow, then his eyebrows, then seeking his mouth again. Sam tried to unbutton his breeches, but could not do so with one hand, using his other to support himself. Laughing melodiously, Rosie lowered her hands to his waist and helped him out of them. As they hit the floor of the smial with a soft sound, Rosie pressed Sam onto his side next to her, looking down at him. He was fully aroused. Rosie admired him for a moment, then reached out her hand and took him tenderly into her grasp. He groaned, and Rosie looked up into his face.  
  
"Sam, you are awfully beautiful too," she said, running her fingers lightly along his length, "and so soft." She pulled him back upon her, echoing his cries with her own as the lower parts of their bodies came into contact for the first time.  
  
"Rose," Sam said earnestly, as she guided him to her warm opening, "I don't want to hurt ye."  
  
"You could never hurt me, love," she sighed, "but go slowly."  
  
So Sam did. He was as gentle a lover as Rosie knew he would be, thinking more of her than of himself. And Rosie gave herself utterly to pleasing him, finding with surprise as she did so that it magnified her own pleasure. She had never been with a lad before, and Sam had not been with a lass, though both of them had received detailed "talks" from their parents on the subject (Rosie peppering her Mum with questions and Sam blushing scarlet and watching his feet as his Gaffer spoke). Hobbits almost never couple apart from marriage, taking such things very seriously and possessing little knowledge of birth control other than abstention. It was delightful for Sam and Rosie, discovering one another, and they slept very little that night. They finally did fall asleep towards dawn, curled together like strands of a well-braided rope, and woke only when their hobbit stomachs demanded it.  
  
Rosie woke first, and for several minutes lay propped on her elbow, gazing at Sam's sleeping face. Eventually a soft snore escaped his lips, and she bent to kiss his forehead, sweeping the curls affectionately from his face.  
  
"Sam, love, wake up," she said sweetly, kissing his eyelids.  
  
Sam stirred, opening his eyes and looking up at her, then drawing her back down against his shoulder and kissing her hair.  
  
"Good morning, my love," he said in a voice filled with emotion, "or is it afternoon?"  
  
"Afternoon, I think," Rose replied. "My stomach woke me. Are you hungry?"  
  
Sam sat up, drawing her with him. "Aye!" he said, suddenly awake, " I am that hungry. I could eat an oliphaunt, I think."  
  
Rose laughed and kissed him on the cheek. Scrambling over him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen, where the remains of the wedding feast had been stowed.  
  
"Rosie," he protested as she tugged him from the bedroom, "don't you want to put somethin' on?"  
  
Rosie grinned wickedly over her shoulder at him. "No, Samwise Gamgee, I do not!" she laughed, pulling him forward.  
  
They ate until they could not eat another bite, finding themselves quite famished. As they were polishing off some cake, Rosie pointed to the front hall.  
  
"Sam, go look at Gandalf's candle, will you? See if any remains of it."  
  
Sam stood up and walked through the foyer, a little chilly, a little shy, and glad (candle or no candle) that they had closed all of the shutters the night before. Rosie watched him admiringly until he was around the corner, then jumped up from the table and followed him.  
  
The candle was still lit, and it was hardly burnt at all. Perhaps a quarter of an inch it had dwindled out of six or seven inches. It gave off almost no scent.  
  
"At this rate of burning, it will last a good while yet," Sam commented.  
  
"I'm glad," Rosie said placing her arms around his waist from behind and kissing the base of his neck. "Are you still hungry, Sam?"  
  
Sam twisted in her arms. He reached up and tenderly pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "Not fer vittles, my love," he said.  
  
Rosie smiled and kissed him, then taking his hand in hers, led him back to their bedroom.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. There are some slight departures from the timeline of The Lord of the Rings, for which I apologize; however, creative license is a part of fanfic, right? smile. 


	21. Morning

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes, I asks. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 21: Morning  
  
Rating: G  
  
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"Mr. Frodo? Wake up, Mr. Frodo. You're breakfast is ready!"  
  
Frodo flinched. His mind wandered back. For a moment he felt cold stone beneath his body, smelt the acrid fumes of Gorgoroth in his nostrils.  
  
"Master? Wake up now."  
  
Frodo shifted. He felt the pillows, the sheets against his skin. The dark memory faded from his mind.  
  
"Sam." Frodo opened his eyes, and seeing the gardener opening the shutters, smiled and sat up.  
  
It had been three weeks since Sam & Rosie's wedding, two since Frodo had returned to Bag End, and Sam had woken him in this way every morning.  
  
Of course it wasn't necessary, but Frodo loved Sam for it. That gentle voice had kept the tatters of his sanity from scattering into the bitter winds of Mordor, and still it had the power to hold him together, on the mornings when waking was fear.  
  
"Good morning!" Sam said brightly.  
  
"Good morning, Sam. You're in a cheerful mood this morning."  
  
"Aye," said Sam, "and you will be too once you get a whiff of Rosie's fine breakfast." He looked at Frodo, searching his face as he did every morning for traces of nightmares. "How do you feel this morning?"  
  
"I feel fine, Sam," Frodo assured him, although his missing finger ached a bit. It ached most mornings, though the stump was well healed. Frodo saw no reason to mention it to his friend, as nothing could be done for it.  
  
Rosie's breakfast was wonderful, as promised. Frodo was a capable cook, and Sam an excellent one, but Rosie put them both to shame. Her mother had taught her well. This particular morning, Rosie had made flat cakes, one of her specialties, along with eggs, sausages, and fresh plum cobbler, a favorite of Frodo's.  
  
"Rosie, you spoil us!" Frodo exclaimed, tucking away a second helping of cobbler.  
  
"Aye, and ye need it, too," said Rosie, draping her arms over Sam's shoulders and patting his round belly. "Both of ye need fattening up, and especially you, Mr. Frodo, sir, if you don't mind me saying so."  
  
"I know," sighed Frodo, "But it's not for lack of eating, I assure you. Bilbo worked at fattening me up, and he didn't have much luck."  
  
"Well, no offence to Mr. Bilbo, but I'm going to have a go at it meself," Rosie grinned, kissing Sam on his curly head and turning to get the kettle from the fire.  
  
"Sam," Frodo said, "I am going down to the mayor's offices again today. I am beginning to believe that Will Whitfoot enjoys my doing his job."  
  
Sam laughed. "He does seem quite recovered," he agreed. "One wonders why he hasn't taken it back yet. Not that you aren't doing a fine job with it, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"I am doing very little," Frodo assured him with a smile, "Lots of little bits of things mostly. Though I will glad to hand it back over soon. I really want to work on Bilbo's book, and pore through the volume Aragorn sent to me. It seems like I haven't had much time to really sit down and read, and think, since we got home."  
  
"Aye, the days do seem to fill themselves up," Sam agreed.  
  
"You should think about running for mayor, Sam," Frodo said with sudden inspiration. "You've got a level head about you."  
  
"Aw, I don' know about that, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "Seems a bit high fer someone of my station, if you follow me."  
  
"Nonsense," put in Rosie, sitting down next to Sam and kissing his shoulder affectionately. "You'd be a fine mayor."  
  
Frodo nodded in agreement.  
  
Sam smiled at them both, shaking his head dismissively. Him a mayor! Mr. Merry would make a good mayor, perhaps, or even Mr. Pippin, but Sam couldn't see himself in such a role. He bent back to his breakfast, and turned his mind to what needed doing in the gardens that day.  
  
But Frodo knew how changed Sam was, and how capable, even if Sam did not. He looked across the table at Rosie, found her looking at him, and winked.  
  
Rosie smiled back at him, nodding slightly, before rising from the table to clear away a few dishes.  
  
Tears pricked at the corners of Rosie's eyes as she poured warm water into a basin for the washing up. Frodo knew her Sam, knew just as she did that he was so much more than a simple gardener, and Rosie loved Frodo for it. Not that Sam lacked confidence, or feared failure. He was as sure of himself and as optimistic as a hobbit could be, but he was loath to put himself forward. His Gaffer had raised him well. "Too well, in some ways," thought Rosie, though she would change very little about him, even had she the power.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	22. Memories

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And it that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 22: Memories  
  
Rating: G  
  
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He tried sitting down, in the armchair, in front of it, but it was no good. And he certainly was not going to remove it from the wall and lay it across the table – that seemed a terribly irreverent thing to do. So he stood, silent before it, reaching up from time to time to touch a place on the fine fabric with his calloused fingers.  
  
~~~  
  
"Praise them with great praise!"  
  
A great shout rose and swelled, hundreds of voices raised up in triumph, as the King of Gondor led Sam and Frodo up and seated them upon his throne.  
  
~~~  
  
"His throne!" thought Sam with wonder, "The throne that he had waited so many years to inherit, and he set me and Mr. Frodo right up on it, side by side!"  
  
He reached up and traced a gentle finger over the image that dominated the center of the tapestry, just at hobbit eye level. It was that moment, the moment when the King had cried out for their praise, which was captured on Arwen's tapestry. He and Frodo were seated upon Aragorn's throne, side by side, clad in the stained and tattered rags they been wearing when the eagles plucked them from the ruined shoulders of Mt. Doom. Sam ran his index finger over the hairy orc breeches; half expecting dirt to come off onto his hand, so lifelike was the weaving of the cloth. Standing before the throne, dressed in mail, with his hands raised high, was Aragorn. Around and below the high seat was pictured a throng of people, and many could be recognized – Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin; even Gandalf was depicted, his robes wrought of the finest white thread, as bright as sunlight upon new snow.  
  
~~~  
  
And when the glad shout had swelled up and died away again, to Sam's final and complete satisfaction and pure joy, a minstrel of Gondor stood forth, and knelt, and begged leave to sing.  
  
"Lo! Lords and knights and men of valor unashamed, kings and princes and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and ye sons of Elrond, and Dunedain of the North, and Elf and Dwarf, and greathearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom!"  
  
~~~  
  
Sam smiled, remembering his reaction to those words. Before succumbing to weeping, he had actually stood up and shouted aloud.  
  
"O great glory and splendor! And all my wishes have come true!"  
  
And there the minstrel was, woven upon the tapestry, clad in bright silver and in sable, and from him issued a woven line of music, which traveled round the scene and along the edges in a great arc.  
  
All around the sides of the tapestry, surrounding the central scene and woven among the lines of music were smaller scenes, embroidered with no less care than the larger, central scene. Strider and Arwen had deliberately chosen the lighter and more joyful moments, leaving out the dark ones, for which memory alone sufficed.  
  
Sam looked at each lovingly crafted portion of the tapestry.  
  
Rivendell. The council of Elrond, woven into the upper left hand corner of the fabric. The nine walkers, standing together, just at the moment when Elrond said, "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."  
  
Sam stretched up on his toes to take a closer look, amazed. Even the expression on Pippin's face was accurate – confidence and nervousness blended in his sharp features.  
  
Lorien. Top right hand corner of the tapestry. All green and silver, and shining with thread that gave the illusion of sunlight. Galadriel was woven there, her hand raised in a gesture of farewell, as three soft grey boats slipped through water. Sam traced the watercourse, wrought in the exact shade of grey-green as he remembered, downward along the right hand side of the fabric, where it united with an image of the White City.  
  
Minas Tirith. Bottom right corner. Proud and strong and bright it stood, gleaming against the cliffs, though the sky overhead was wrought of dark thread, brooding clouds which had issued from the East.  
  
In between these two images were two others, slightly smaller, both of Ithilian. In the upper one, Sam was depicted, cooking over a low fire, Frodo curled in sleep nearby. Sam sighed and smiled "I'll never forget that brace o' coneys" he said softly. "Tasted like a king's feast, despite the lack of taters."  
  
Slightly below this image was woven an image of the Window on the West. The fair waters tumbling down the cliffside, spangled with the colors of the sunset. Faramir stood tall and proud atop the cliff, the two small figures of the hobbits beside him. It almost looked as if the waters were moving, and Sam could not count the number of colors used for the waterfall.  
  
Sam trailed his fingers back to the center of the tapestry, his mind trailing with them, back to that day in Gondor.  
  
~~~  
  
"And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the Elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness."  
  
~~~  
  
"Sam?" A soft hand landed upon his shoulder, and he was pulled gently from his reverie. Turning, he saw Rosie, and he smiled at her.  
  
"It's so lovely, Rose," he said softly, turning and taking her hand, "I never tire of looking at it."  
  
"Aye," she replied, leaning in and kissing his lips. "I know, and it is. Are you ready yet, to come to bed? I'll sit a while here, with ye, if ye wish."  
  
"I'll come," Sam said, circling her waist with his arm. "Gladly. There are other things I never tire of looking at, you know."  
  
"Oh?" Rosie teased, "such as what?"  
  
Sam wrapped his other arm around her, gazing hazel into green as he bent to kiss her. "Such as you, my love."  
  
~TBC~  
  
Notes: The portions bordered by ~~~ are direct quotes from The Return of the King. Also, there is more on the tapestry, I just didn't want to cram it all into one chapter…  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	23. Ondo Seere

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, June, 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 23: Ondo Seere  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Note: See chapter 17 for an explanation of the Ondo Seere  
  
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It was the first week in June, and Sam could think of no anniversaries or remembered suffering that would account for it, but Frodo awoke on this morning sweating and in pain.  
  
Sam had called for him as he always did, opening the curtains and bidding him a Good Morning, but on this day Frodo's face was damp with perspiration, and he was unable to suppress a groan.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam worried, coming to his side, "What is it? Are you hurting?"  
  
Frodo lifted his face to his friend, anguish etched in the blue depths of his eyes. "Yes, Sam. It's my hand – my finger – it hurts so badly. I was dreaming, Sam, about that day, and waking is worse than the dream." He clutched his right hand with his left, bending over the pain as if the wound was newly inflicted.  
  
"Wait here, master," Sam said, touching Frodo's shoulder gently, "Don't move a muscle." He trotted to the far side of the bedroom and swiftly opened the trunk nestled against the far wall. Pulling forth the larger of the two wooden boxes, he closed the trunk and returned to Frodo's side.  
  
Frodo was silent, but silvery tracks now glistened on both cheeks, and he remained hunched over amidst the bedclothes. Sam opened the box and lifted out the white-green stone, the Ondo Seere, sent by the Lady Arwen. It felt warm in his hand.  
  
Sam did not know why, at least he would not have been able to explain it to anyone, but the stone had different effects on different hobbits. His Gaffer, for example, had held the stone three times, twice for a good long time, and each time he had wept, though not overmuch, and they did not seem to be tears of grief. Mr. Merry had held the stone, and he said that it brought to his mind fair memories of Rohan; that he could smell the green grass and hear the sound of hoofbeats in his ears. But he did not weep when he held it. Pippin, on the other hand, had wept, though he did not wish to share his thoughts, and asked Frodo for permission to hold it again from time to time, to which Frodo of course agreed willingly. Sam figured that holding the stone helped Master Pippin with some of the dark memories from Minas Tirith – of Denethor and Faramir – and the two palantir. Pippin, like Sam, was an optimistic and cheerful hobbit by nature, but he had suffered much during the War, and he was very young. As for Sam, he had held the stone, a few days after Frodo had received it, and several times since. A thing of wonder it was, although Sam felt very little when he held it – just a sense of warmth and comfort. "Of course," thought Sam, "I was not in pain at the time, and p'rhaps that makes a difference." How the stone was able to reach each person in the way they needed, Sam did not know.  
  
What he did know was that the stone's effect on Frodo was most powerful, and did him great good. And that was far more important to Samwise Gamgee than the mysteries of elvish magic.  
  
Now he spoke softly, "Frodo? Here, Mr. Frodo, I've brought the Ondo Seere. Take it, master, please."  
  
Frodo looked up painfully, and opened his hands enough for Sam to nestle the stone between them. Almost immediately the change began. Color returned to his pale face, his narrow shoulders visibly relaxed, and he gave a shuddering sigh.  
  
"Oh, Sam, thank you," he said after several minutes, smiling at the gardener. "I don't think I could have even reached the trunk this morning. Oh, that is so much better! It still hurts, but I can bear it now."  
  
Sam smiled at him, then urged Frodo to lie back down, smoothing the damp curls away from his forehead. "Now you just lie quiet, Frodo, and I'll fetch some tea from Rosie."  
  
Frodo nodded and closed his eyes, both hands wrapped around the precious object. Sam went back to the kitchen and gathered a hot mug of tea, and also a plate of breakfast, in case Frodo wanted to eat. He told Rosie briefly that Frodo was ill, and asked her to walk over and tell the Gaffer, who could send work to Mayor Whitfoot that Frodo might not come to town today.  
  
Sam returned to Frodo's side, relieved to see that he looked much better. His features were relaxed somewhat, and his eyes were closed. The stone rested upon his breast and both hands were closed about it.  
  
Then suddenly Sam caught his breath, startled by the resemblance Frodo bore to himself at Cirith Ungol, poison stung, lying as if he was dead beneath the cliff. A flood of memories rushed back into Sam's heart, and tears sprang to the corners of his eyes.  
  
Frodo, hearing Sam's sharp intake of breath, opened his eyes.  
  
"Sam?" He looked into his friend's face. "Oh, Sam, I have caused you pain, haven't I? I'm so sorry." He lifted one hand from the stone and reached out to the gardener.  
  
Sam shook his head, inwardly cursing his involuntary tears. "Nay, Mr. Frodo, you haven't caused me no pain. Just memories is all it is. Memories as I can't help thinking of, from time to time." He took Frodo's outstretched hand and placed it back on the white stone, covering it with his own.  
  
"Memories," Frodo sighed, "Yes. Will we ever be healed of them, I wonder?" His eyes fell back closed, but not before another tear escaped one and ran slowly down the side of his face to the pillow.  
  
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and was still for a long time, his brown hands covering Frodo's white ones, upon the Ondo Seere. And he also felt comfort from the elvish stone, even through the hands of his master. It crept up his arms and stole toward his heart, and the old fears were lifted from his mind. Eventually Sam bent over, laying his forehead atop their joined hands. The tea and the food cooled, forgotten, on the side table. For a long time Sam remained thus, until Frodo's even breathing assured him that he slept. Only then did he rise, drawing the curtains quietly closed again and tiptoeing from the room.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	24. Song

1.1 AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE FORGIVE THE LONG INTERLUDE BETWEEN CHAPTERS. My non-virtual life has been interfering with my writing. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANING AND PATIENCE! Please leave me a review, however short, so that I know you are still out there and want more!  
  
1.2  
  
1.3 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, June 1420  
  
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1.4 Chapter 24: Song  
  
Rating: G  
  
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Rosie took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. All was quiet. Mr. Frodo was down at the mayor's offices, having left just after elevensies and in good spirits. Sam was whistling in the back garden, tending the vegetables, which like all growing things were unusually large and productive this year.  
  
Rosie knelt by the ornate trunk, stealing one more glance over her shoulder at Frodo's bedroom door, although she knew it was closed. She unlatched the lid and lifted it, looking in at the beautiful things neatly arranged within. The one that caught the eye was, of course, the mithril coat, folded reverently to one side of the trunk. Next to it were the two wooden boxes. Rosie lifted out the larger one.  
  
Her heart was pounding. She scolded herself, "Rose Gamgee, you just calm down, now." Why did she feel like a naughty child, stealing apples from the larder? Mr. Frodo had told her, on at least three separate occasions, that she was welcome to hold the stone, whenever she wished. When offered the opportunity in front of others, she had always declined, and each time, Frodo had said, "Well, Rosie, if you change your mind, you can always feel free to try it. Anytime, Rosie," and he had smiled at her.  
  
Rosie sat the smooth wooden box on the floor next to the chest. Taking another deep breath to steady herself, she opened the box. The Ondo Seere lay within, a soft whitish-green, cradled in a rich dark cloth.  
  
"I wonder what you would feel, Rose?" Sam had said to her, just a few evenings ago, teasing just a little. Rosie had shrugged, and kissed his forehead. She could not explain to Sam her reluctance – her need to do this in private, at least the first time.  
  
Rosie had never experienced magic. She had seen it certainly, in Gandalf's fireworks, in the amazing growth caused by the Lady's dust, and in the mallorn. She had touched the mallorn and felt it thrumming deep within, and that was elvish magic, she knew, but this stone, this was different. The stone's magic was more personal – it got under your skin and into your mind and heart – she had seen it bring forth ringing laughter, profound weeping, and many things in between (although the stone's touch always seemed to have a healing effect). Rosie was a farming lass. She was of vegetables and grain, of soil and water, of sheep and pigs and baby chicks. As grounded in reality as a lass could be was Rosie Cotton Gamgee.  
  
The Ondo Seere, quite frankly, frightened her.  
  
It must be clarified that Rosie was not a timid girl. She had faced down a full-grown bull once, when she was still in her tweens. Spiders didn't frighten her, nor did vermin, and once she had broken her arm falling from a tree. She was trying to imitate her two oldest brothers, who had tied a long thick rope from a high branch. They would climb up into the tree, grasp the rope with all four limbs, and swing out into space, squealing with fright and joy. Rosie, who had only nine summers at the time and was small for her age, was determined to try it herself despite her brothers' and her parents' warnings. She had climbed up one early fall morning to try it, when everyone else in the family was at their chores. It was actually on her third climb up the tree that she fell, having swung twice already. And Rosie had only cried a little bit, although it had hurt worse than anything she could remember, especially when the healer pulled the limb straight and bound it tightly to heal.  
  
No, Rosie was not easily frightened, but this small white thing scared her more than ruffians. The idea of magic, of elvish magic against her own skin, made her tremble.  
  
Quickly, lest she lose her nerve, Rosie reached into the box and picked up the stone. She pressed it between both hands against her breast, breathing hard.  
  
At first, nothing happened. Then slowly, the stone grew warm between her tight-clenched fingers. It vibrated against her palms, much as the mallorn did, but this was stronger. The sensation was very much like having a tiny kitten in her hands, purring and warm against her flesh.  
  
The warmth spread, through Rosie's hands, up her arms, and over her shoulders. At the same time it penetrated her chest, flowing across her ribcage like warm water. Rosie felt herself relaxing, and wondered why she had been afraid. It was not frightening at all, this elvish magic. It was beautiful.  
  
Rosie smiled.  
  
For several moments she sat thus, lost in the feeling of peace, then gradually became aware that she could hear music. Softly at first, then higher and clearer, like singing but without words. It took Rosie several heartbeats to recognize that the music was emitting from the Ondo Seere, and was not inside her own head and heart. The song washed over her, like morning sunshine on a flowerbed, and Rosie kept very still, eyes closed, awash in gladness.  
  
At last she pulled the stone from her breast, holding it in her open hands for a moment. The song faded, as if the stone knew she was about to put it down, and it was silent when she placed it gently back into the wooden box, although its warmth still lingered against her fingertips.  
  
Rose replaced the lid, and lifted the wooden box back into the trunk, fastening the latches carefully. She rose slowly, feeling lighter somehow. The stone had sung to her! She couldn't wait to tell Sam.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	25. Conceived

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, year 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 25: Conceived  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
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One warm summer's night, around mid-June, Sam was woken at midnight by Rosie's insistent shaking.  
  
"Sam. Sam, wake up, love."  
  
Sam groaned. His well-trained gardener's body knew that it was not morning, not even near to morning. But he opened his sleepy eyes and found Rosie bending over him.  
  
"Sam," Rosie said softly, lifting her hand from his shoulder, "Please come look. I know it's late, but I've never seen anything like this. What I mean is, it's moved before, but not like this."  
  
His curiosity peaked, Sam climbed out of bed, surprised to find his wife dressed and holding a candle. He was used to her getting up at night, but generally she remained in her nightclothes, or put on an overshawl. Rosie was actually in one of her simple dresses, laced up the front, such as she wore about the smial on a summer's day. Sam thought she looked especially beautiful with the candlelight flickering on her face and her honey-colored curls loose about her cheeks.  
  
Rosie handed him his trousers and shirt. Silently he dressed, watching her face for signs of what she was up to. But she said nothing, taking him by the hand and drawing him quietly through the hole, past Frodo's bedroom, through the round door and out into the night air.  
  
It was a clear moonless evening, and a very light breeze was blowing. But instead of silence, or the chirping of insects, Sam heard a great rustling sound. It was like the round of rushing water, or of a great wind - near, but not too near, from the direction of the Party Field.  
  
"What's that?" he asked Rosie in a whisper, looking about but seeing nothing that could account for the odd noise.  
  
"I was having trouble sleeping," Rosie whispered back, "and I didn't want to wake you, so I took my cup of tea out here to sit in the garden for a bit."  
  
Sam nodded. His Rose was prone to sleep lightly and woke often at night. On more than one occasion, he had found her in the wee hours, sipping tea in the parlor or the garden.  
  
"Well," she continued, "Once I got out here, I heard it. And I went to investigate. Come and see." And with that, she pulled him through the gate and towards the Party Field.  
  
It was the mallorn that was causing the noise. Its branches were tossing about violently, as if a great wind was blowing against it. Leaves and flowers showered from the boughs as they pitched wildly against one another. Even the trunk, though it was now as thick as Sam's waist, bent to and fro near the top.  
  
"Ah!" Sam cried in alarm, running up to the tree and laying his hand upon the trunk. "It behaves as if it will shake itself to pieces!"  
  
"Rosie looked from Sam's face to the mallorn and back again, concern written across her features. "What's wrong with it, Sam? Will it be alright?"  
  
Sam placed his ear against the smooth silver bark, listening.  
  
"Well," he said after a moment, "There's no sound of splintering or cracking. An' the tree doesn't feel distressed, if you take my meaning. She feels sound and strong." He stroked the trunk lovingly, his forehead still etched with puzzlement.  
  
Rosie nodded. She was well acquainted with Sam's uncanny sensitivity towards all growing things, and towards this tree in particular.  
  
"You know what I think, Rose," Sam continued, turning towards her, "I think it must be blowing a gale up in Lorien, a real house-rattling storm. What I think is that this here mallorn – well, it feels what is happening in Lorien, where all it's brothers and sisters are. I think when the wind blows there, that's when it gets to quiverin' and thrummin' like it does. But this is a big wind, a storm even, I'm sure of it, tho' I never saw a storm when I was in Lorien." He looked thoughtfully up at the tossing branches. "No, all the time I was in Lorien, we had nought but gentle rains and soft breezes." He paused. "But maybe times are changing there, too, like they are in all of middle-earth."  
  
Rosie looked at Sam with admiration, then back up at the tree. She said nothing for several moments, sensing that his thoughts were far away, in the Golden Wood. Finally, she spoke again, gently. "Look, Sam, it's starting to calm a bit."  
  
Sure enough, there was a perceptible slowing, a reduction in the violence of the branches' movements. Although the branches still tossed, very few leaves or flowers were now falling.  
  
On an impulse, Sam lay down beneath the mallorn, on his back, and crossed his arms behind his head. He gave a huge sigh and smiled, breathing in the night air as if it was a draught of good ale after a long day's walking.  
  
Rosie grinned down at him. "What exactly are you doin', Samwise Gamgee?" she asked.  
  
In response he sat up, grasped her hand, and pulled her down beside him. For a while they lay, side-by-side, hands clasped, gazing up at the tossing branches and the white stars winking between. The night was dark, and warm, and from time to time a sweet-smelling flower drifted from above towards their upturned faces.  
  
Rosie twisted over onto her side, nestling her body against Sam's and tucking her head against his shoulder. She laid her arm upon his chest and sighed deeply.  
  
Sam echoed her, lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her closer against him with his right arm. He loved the feel of her warm body against him, and loved her, so much that it made his chest ache.  
  
After a moment, she spoke against his ear. "Sam?"  
  
"Yes, my love?"  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
Sam turned his head, meeting Rosie's lips with his own, and she kissed him deeply, not the kiss of a drowsy hobbit wife, but the kiss of a newly married bride whose thoughts are on anything but sleep.  
  
After several moments, Sam pulled his mouth from hers.  
  
"Rose?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Should we go… you know… inside?"  
  
Rosie propped herself up on her elbow, "Why should we?" she asked him with a grin, "There's no one awake, Sam, not in all of Hobbiton. And this spot is as safe as Bag End, this time of night." She bent and kissed him again, feeling for the waistband of his trousers.  
  
Sam cast his eyes left and right (with some difficulty), and saw that Rosie was right. Not only did the area look as uninhabited as Amon Sul, it was a moonless night, and the grass was tall. He chuckled deep in his chest, and used his right arm to pull Rosie on top of himself.  
  
"Ah," purred Rosie, pausing for a moment to look at his face. "Did you change your mind, Mr. Gamgee?"  
  
"Aye, I have that," said Sam, capturing her mouth again with his own and moving his hands to her bodice. He still felt nervous, but it was a different kind of nervousness than he was used to, and he liked it.  
  
"Good," she murmured, reaching down to pull her skirt up around her waist, then helping him unfasten the buttons on his breeches. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, and as she pressed her bared chest to his, she could feel his heart as well, thundering in his strong chest in time with her own.  
  
They joined with one another there, under the mallorn, not once, but several times, and great joy was in them both, even more than they had yet found in one another, and Sam felt as if his heart would burst within him.  
  
As their passions calmed so did the tossing branches, until both the tree and the hobbits were still against the predawn dimness. It was not until the stars began to wink out, and the dew began to spring upon the grass, that Sam and Rosie stole back to Bag End and tiptoed past Frodo's bedroom to their own.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	26. MidYear's Day

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, mid-year's day, 1420  
  
Author's Notes  
  
FYI Sam's Tale is not over! It's just that RL has infringed on me a bit more than usual and slowed me down.  
  
In the meantime, I have posted another story, also Sam/Rosie but further in the future, and have started an angst story (1st chapter posted).  
  
You will be able to find both of these on my author page.  
  
Thank you again for your wonderful reviews and support. Although I do this more as much for me than anyone else, you are my motivation.  
  
Nilly  
  
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1.2 Chapter 26: Mid Year's Day  
  
Rating: G  
  
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On mid-year's day that year, Frodo finally resigned the office of Deputy mayor.  
  
He had held the office for over six months, plenty of time for Mayor Will Whitfoot to recover from his ordeal in Sharkey's lockholes (more than enough time, thought most, but no one begrudged him the rest), and he had done a fine job, though he always said he didn't do much.  
  
There was a small ceremony in the town square, involving the signing of papers and the giving over of keys, and much applause from the onlookers. After several drinks of celebration at The Green Dragon, Frodo, Sam, Rosie and the Gaffer headed back up towards the Row.  
  
It was a fine sunshiny afternoon, one of those fresh early summer Shire days, when hobbit children run laughing in the fields and splash in the ponds, trying to catch elusive green frogs and laughing in their clear joyful voices. The hobbits walked slowly, breathing in the warm air and talking.  
  
"Do you know," commented Frodo, "That it was one year ago today that King Elessar and Queen Arwen were married."  
  
"Why so it was!" Sam agreed. "An' it hardly seems it could have been a whole year already, and over half a year since we came 'ome." He reached over and captured Rosie's hand, as if to assure himself of her solidarity. She squeezed his fingers. "Ah, I wish you could have been there, Rose. It was so lovely."  
  
They walked for a bit further, the soft breeze ruffling their curls. The Gaffer picked a large weed from the side of the path and stuck it between his teeth.  
  
"So, Mr. Frodo," Rosie asked, turning her head towards the older hobbit. "What will you do now, with all your extra time? Will you work on your book?"  
  
Hamfast Gamgee raised his eyebrows at Rosie, perhaps a bit surprised at her boldness, but then looked at Frodo, eager to know the answer himself.  
  
"Yes," said Frodo, "That is weighing heavily on my mind. That, and other things. I want to get everything written down, quickly, before the memories fade."  
  
"If they do fade," he added with a soft sigh. "Sam, I will need your help, you know, and Merry's help, and Pippin's."  
  
"Aw, I'm no good at writin' Mr. Frodo," Sam said, "But sure as I'll help in any way I can. And I'm sure t'others will be glad to help as well. They certainly love to talk about it."  
  
"I shall need them," Frodo said, "For there are a lot of bits in this story that you and I were not there to witness, Sam. And although we have been told them, in great detail, I think for a truly accurate account I shall need all three of you near at hand."  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
For a few more paces, no one spoke, but then the Gaffer burst out with the question that had been eating away at his mind for weeks.  
  
"What's it all about, this red book? I mean, I know it's chock full o' adventures, of Mr. Bilbo's and yours, Mr. Frodo, but whys the need for scribin' it all down and bein' careful about details and such? Tales round here are mostly passed a'mouth, and sure as they get stretched a bit, but it makes for an even better tale at times for the stretchin'. Not that yer tales need any improvin' on, Sir," he clarified. "I'm not a reading man, meself, but my Sam is, and right proud of him I am, too, though I don't understand why he takes such stock in this red book o'yours, if you don't mind me asking." He stopped abruptly, seeming to feel that he had talked himself into a corner, and flushed deeply.  
  
Frodo looked at the Gaffer, and he wanted to laugh, seeing his dearest friend Sam in much older form, shy with imagined "overstepping of his bounds." But he did not laugh, having the sense not to embarrass the older hobbit, and knowing also that the question was a genuine one, and more important than even the Gaffer realized.  
  
"Well, Hamfast," he said seriously, "This tale, the tale of the War, and the Ring, and our part in it – it's – well, it's bigger than the normal tales we tell one another."  
  
The Gaffer nodded, and Frodo continued.  
  
"It's so important that we remember what happened, and that our children remember, and our children's children. Hobbits need to keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that they will always remember the Great Danger and love their beloved land all the more." He stopped for a moment, and the others stopped with him, so important this seemed to him.  
  
"A great evil has departed from the world, Hamfast," Frodo said, looking first to the Gaffer then to Sam and Rosie in turn. "But evil itself will always be. So Gandalf told me. And to be on guard, to keep that evil from rising up again, we must always keep our History in mind. I do not want the Tale of the Ring to be lost to fairy tale and myth, like so many other great tales have been."  
  
He resumed walking, laying an arm over the Gaffer's shoulders to let him know he was not displeased with him, and turning the conversation to the Gaffer's garden, which was uncommonly beautiful this year.  
  
Sam watched his master, taking Rosie's hand again as they continued up the path, and he felt a fresh stirring of pride and love within his chest.  
  
"Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," he said to himself, and it was an internal vow. "If there's anything Samwise Gamgee can do about it, every soul in the Shire will know, and remember."  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	27. Garden

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, July 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 27: Garden  
  
Rating: G  
  
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Even though the morning was young, he could feel heat pressing through his shirt and against his back, starting fine beads of sweat along his spine. He looked up over his shoulder at the sun, hovering between 9 and 10 o'clock in the East. It was going to be a hot day.  
  
Good.  
  
Sam bent back to his work. Hot days were good, as long as water was plenty, and it was this summer. They had been having wonderful warm rains, mostly in the late afternoons, not enough water to flood the gardens, but enough to keep the flowers glowing and the vegetables fat.  
  
Sam marveled again at the celebration that the entire earth seemed to be going through this year. Each week the hobbits wondered if the almost perfect weather and abundance of growth would taper off, but each week was as lovely as the one before.  
  
"I always said growing things have more sense than some people," he muttered, smiling to himself, as there was no one around to hear.  
  
He had been busy at the weeding for over two hours already, and it had been a good morning's work, though not without interruption. The Bag End gardens were large and vigorous, and Sam knew that they were the best in Hobbiton, if not the entire Shire. He was working the tomato patch now, one of his favorite plants. He loved to watch the plump tomatoes bud and swell, and to watch the color creep across the surface until they were red as blood and bursting with flavor. They were one of Sam's favorite foods, and Frodo's, too, so the gardener took extra care with them.  
  
Sam reached between the thick stalks, deftly removing slender unwanted shoots and placing them in the small barrow at hand. He had been weeding almost since he could walk, and it was mindless work for him, though he did not find it tedious. Even after so many years, Sam found pleasure in removing the encroaching weeds.  
  
"There, you can breathe easier now," he said softly to the tomato plants. "Much better, eh? More soil and water and light and air for each of you without those interlopers." Smiling, he took a roll of thin twine from his pocket and bit off some short lengths. These he used to secure the vines to the trellis in a few loose places. Satisfied, he sat back and dusted the earth from his hands. Pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he mopped the sweat from his face.  
  
Yes, it was going to be hot today. It already was.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Frodo's voice. Coming from the open window of the larger parlor. Sam stood up and went to the window, which was wide open to admit the summer breeze. He leaned upon the sill, careful not to drop dirt or leaves into the hole.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Frodo. You need me?"  
  
Frodo smiled at him. "I'm sorry Sam, I know you are busy. But I am having the hardest time on this bit."  
  
Frodo was sitting at his favorite table, books and papers spread before him, feet tucked underneath the chair, and a mug of tea within reach. He was leaning on his left elbow, and he twisted the curls nearest his shoulder round the fingers of his left hand, a habit he had picked up unconsciously. He often twisted his hair, or the chain around his neck, when he was concentrating on something.  
  
He was working on the red book. He was always writing, or reading, nowadays. There was an urgency about him, as if he felt the need to get everything written down before memory failed him, or to satisfy some hidden deadline that only he could see.  
  
"I am writing about our journey in the boats, after Lothlorien but before we left the company," Frodo said thoughtfully, "and no matter how I figure it, I keep coming up with the wrong count. How many days were we on the Anduin, Sam? Nine? Or eleven? Do you remember?"  
  
"Well, Mr. Frodo, that's not too difficult. Let me think." Sam put his elbows on the sill and propped his chin into them. He furrowed his brows a moment before he spoke. "We left Lorien on February the 16th. I know that for sure…"  
  
"February the 16th?" Frodo interrupted him, flipping back a couple of pages in the book. "I thought it was the 14th. Are you certain, Sam?"  
  
"Aye. Very sure." Sam nodded. "The fourteenth was the day we looked into the Lady's mirror, sir, if you remember. And it was a month exactly that we stayed in the Golden Wood. We came there on January 15th, then pushed off on February 16th, I'm right sure of it."  
  
"Ah, well, that would solve it – I was two days off in my reckoning and you have corrected me two days." Frodo distangled his left hand from his hair and used a piece of erasing gum to rub out a few lines on the page. "And we arrived at Parth Galen on the 25th, right? Putting us nine days on the river?"  
  
"Aye. That's right. Nine days too many, if you want my opinion," Sam added half to himself.  
  
Frodo blew softly on the page then looked up, taking his pen again in his hand. "You have an amazing memory Sam, for dates and details and such."  
  
Sam brushed some imaginary specks of dirt from the windowsill, "Thankee, sir. Though I s'pose memory can be as much curse as blessin' from time to time."  
  
"Yes." Frodo said seriously, "perhaps so. But more the blessing, in my view." He smiled broadly at the solid silhouette blocking his parlor window. "Thank you, Sam. I am sorry I keep interrupting you at your work. This is what? The third time this morning?"  
  
Sam grinned back at his master and pushed his hair back from his forehead. "Aw, Frodo, it's no bother, really. I like helping you, and it gives me a bit of a breather from time to time. But I best be getting back to the garden."  
  
"Alright Sam."  
  
Frodo bent back to his writing, and Sam watched him for a moment, affection tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he gave one more brush to the immaculate windowsill, and sticking his hands in his pockets, went whistling back to the garden. There were plenty more weeds to pull, around the carrots and the taters, especially.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	28. Lily

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, July 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 28: Lily  
  
Rating: G  
  
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Lily Chubb had been a healer for over forty years. Her mother had also been a healer, and two of her three brothers were healers, although more often hobbit women tended toward the profession. Healing tended to run in families, both the herb lore and the skills being passed from mother to daughter or father to son through the years. It was a good living, especially in the springtime, when lots of babies were born, although often as not payment was in grain or vegetables rather than in coin. Lily didn't mind. She loved her work, the sorrow and the joy of it, and the hobbits living nearby loved her, for she was as gentle as the evening and as patient as a hobbit could be.  
  
On the morning of the last day of July, Lily was making breakfast when there was a knock on her door, loud enough to make her jump. Before she could even put the lid back onto the pot, the knock was repeated, even more urgently.  
  
Wiping her hands on her apron, Lily went to the door and flung it open, stepping back quickly as Samwise Gamgee practically fell into the smail. By the looks of his sweaty face and the sound of his breathing, he had run all the way from the Row.  
  
"Why Sam, whatever is the matter?" Lily asked, surprised and pleased to see him. She had delivered Sam herself, she and her mother, and could never look at him without seeing the plump squalling babe of so long ago. She had known him all of his life, and was a good friend to all of the Gamgees.  
  
"It's Rosie," Sam said, biting his lower lip, "She's sick."  
  
Lily was not easily ruffled. Emergency situations were rare in the Shire, and besides, Lily could tell that Sam was worried, not panicked.  
  
"Alright, Sam, come in and tell me what's happening, while I get my things."  
  
Sam followed Lily into the hole, wringing his hands a little and managing a smile for her two oldest grandchildren, who had scampered out of the back bedroom to see who the visitor was.  
  
"Well," Sam said, as Lily removed her apron and gathered her little bag of supplies and herbs, "Rosie's been sick nigh onto a week, just a bit of flu, I thought, but the last few days she has been givin' most of her breakfast back to the garden, if you follow me."  
  
"I do," Lily assured him, gesturing to her granddaughters to come from the hallway to the kitchen.  
  
"And she's never sick, never," Sam continued, worry staining his voice, "I can't remember a time she's ever been ill, long as I've known her, and that being nearly all my life."  
  
Lily gave a few instructions to the girls for finishing up the breakfast, and telling Mr. Chubb the situation, then nodded to Sam and led him out the door.  
  
"No," she said, "Rosie Cotton - well, Rosie Gamgee I should say," she corrected, smiling at Sam, "is a right healthy lass. I do remember her having one fever as a child, but not serious. Mostly with her 'twas bumps and bruises, and the arm she broke that time."  
  
"Aye, an that's what's got me so worried," Sam confessed. "She's always been hale and strong, right up until this week, and this morning the worst day yet."  
  
"Is she fevered?" Lily asked, walking quickly to match Sam's worried pace, "How is her colour?"  
  
"No, not fevered so's I can tell, though she says she feels hot. And she is a bit pale. She's been dizzy off and on, too," Sam said. "I'm right flummoxed about her, Miss Lily."  
  
Lily took Sam's arm and squeezed gently as they turned up the lane to the Row. "I know y'are, Sam," she said gently, "Try not to worry. Likely as not it's nothing ta worry over."  
  
They found Rosie in the little parlor, sitting in the armchair nearest the open window. Frodo was with her, having brought her a mug of tea and a damp cloth to cool her forehead. As Miss Lily and Sam came down the hallway, they could hear Rosie talking.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, please don't fuss over me," she was saying. "I'm just fine."  
  
"You're not fine, Rosie," Frodo insisted gently. "You need to drink this, if you can. Besides, I promised Sam I would keep my eye on you while he went for Mistress Lily."  
  
At that very moment, Sam and the healer came into the parlor, and both went straight to Rosie, Sam taking her hand but staying to the side so the healer could examine his wife.  
  
"Hullo, Rosie," Lily said, feeling the younger hobbit's forehead and neck with the back of a gentle hand. "Tell me how you are feeling."  
  
Rosie did, relating the same symptoms reported by Sam, but with less worry in her tone.  
  
"And how about in the afternoons, and the evenings, Rosie? How do you feel then?" Lily asked, pressing gently against Rosie's abdomen and feeling her heartbeat with the flat of her hand.  
  
"Well, I feel good in the evenings, actually," said Rosie. "Afternoons too, mostly, 'cepting I feel a bit tired. Every night I think I have licked this flu, but then the next morn it's back again."  
  
Lily smiled, and turned to Sam. "How long have you been married, Samwise?"  
  
Sam was taken aback by the question, but he did not hesitate. "Three months. Three months tomorra in fact," he answered, running his fingers over his wife's hand.  
  
"Well, Samwise Gamgee," Lily said, standing up and grinning broadly at both of them, "I'm ashamed of ye. Rosie t'aint any sisters, but you have plenty, and you should know morning sickness when you see it."  
  
"Morning sickness?" Rosie said, her eyes widening.  
  
"Aye," said Lily, bending and kissing her cheek, "Ye've nothing wrong with ye at all, and I reckon that you'll be feeling a lot better in another few weeks, 'cept you will be gaining a bit o' weight before long. Samwise, don't look so shocked. What did you think was likely to happen when you got yerself wedded?"  
  
"But…we…it's so soon!" Sam stammered. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Well, of course we can't be completely sure until springtime, when the wee one arrives," Lily said matter-of-factly, "but based on my years of knowing, I'd wager you two have a family in the making."  
  
Rosie jumped up from her chair, heedless of the mug, which fell with a clattering splash to the floor and rolled against the baseboard. She threw her arms around Sam, kissing him and weeping. "A baby, Sam! We are going to have a little one! Oh, Sam!"  
  
Sam held her, and slowly a grin spread over his broad face. Relief and wonder mingled in his heart and overflowed, while Frodo and Lily's laughter echoed from the walls of the smail.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	29. Disagreement

1.1 Sam's Tale  
  
Reviews coveted and appreciated!  
  
"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: G, PG, R  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, September 1420  
  
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1.2 Chapter 29: Disagreement  
  
Rating: PG  
  
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Rosie put both hands on her hips and cocked her curly head to one side, a stance which Sam usually found endearing, but not on this day.  
  
"Sam Gamgee," she was saying, in a tone neither endearing nor ladylike, "I have helped with harvest every year since I could carry a sack, and I aim to help this year as well."  
  
"But all them years, you weren't with child," Sam protested, in a tone not much gentler than his wife's, "And yer still sick and dizzy from time to time, and that one afternoon you swooned outright."  
  
"Only the once," said Rosie, gathering the butter and jelly crocks from the table and shoving them roughly onto a shelf, "and that was because I hadn't slept at all the night before and hadn't a thing to eat since early mornin'. It was terrible hot that day, besides."  
  
"Aye," said Sam, "an harvestin' is terrible hot work."  
  
"I don't aim to swing a sickle," Rosie said, exasperation coloring her tone, "just to help out – carrying things or bringing water, tying bundles and such." She sank down opposite Sam at the table. "I'll be careful."  
  
Sam looked at her, feeling strongly that this was a battle he must win. "Yer not the careful type, Rose. That's one of the reasons I love ye." He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own, his tone gentling. "I think you should stay t'home and stay rested."  
  
Rosie sighed, dropping her gaze to the brown hand covering her own. "I rest all of the time, Sam. I'm tired of resting. It can't be good for the wee one to have her mother in a state of flusteration."  
  
"HIS mother," Sam corrected gently, placing his other hand beneath Rosie's chin and lifting her eyes to his. "And t'ain't good for him to have his mother ill or weak with sunstroke neither."  
  
Rosie smiled, despite herself. "His mother, then, Sam. But I aim to go to harvest nonetheless." She placed her free hand on her abdomen, pressing softly against the firm bulge that was just beginning to be obvious. It was true that the past couple of months had been difficult for her, but she felt strong, and restless, and wanted to take part in her family's largest harvest ever. She hated inactivity, and Sam had been so doting, even this early on, Rosie wondered if he would even allow her out of bed once her belly swelled large. She smiled again at the thought of the little one growing inside her, and standing, came around the table to Sam's side, placing his palm against the firmness beneath her waist.  
  
"I'm strong, Sam," she said gently. "I promise not to overdo, and to stay in the shade, and you will be there to watch over me, besides."  
  
Sam sighed, circling his arms about her waist and pressing his cheek to the soft mound that was his child. For several moments he said nothing, and Rosie ran her fingers again and again through his soft curls as he held her.  
  
"My Mum lost a babe once," he said eventually, "I was young, but I remember it."  
  
Rosie pulled back, gently tugging his arms from around her, and sank down next to him upon the bench. "Oh, Sam."  
  
"It was after Marigold, a long while after, I suppose. I had perhaps six or seven summers, and all of us were glad because Mum was to have another babe in the autumn, and I was sure it was a lad. I would have loved ta have a younger brother."  
  
Rosie listened, watching Sam's face with compassion, and taking his two hands in her own as she always did when he spoke seriously or was sad.  
  
"It was a lad, too, least that's what the healer said to me Gaffer. I wasn't meant to hear it, but I was in the hallway…" he paused, cocking his head a little to the side. "Rose, I needn't tell you if it will upset you."  
  
"No, Sam, it doesn't," she assured him. "Tell me. I want to hear about it."  
  
"I do," she repeated when he hesitated another moment, and it was true. Rosie's heart was full of love for Samwise Gamgee, so full that some days she wondered if she could bear it, and she wanted to know everything about him – every joy and sorrow, every memory and thought.  
  
"Well," Sam continued, "Mum fell ill towards the end of the summer. She was already big around the middle, and it was perhaps 10 weeks until the babe was due to arrive. She was out working a little in the garden, which she always did right up until the end, and she fainted. We couldn't rouse her nohow, and the Gaffer sent me at a trot for the healer, as I was the fastest runner. When he picked Mum up to carry her into the house, I saw the blood. Her skirts were covered in it, and I didn't know what it meant, but it frightened me. I ran down the path to Mistress Lily's as fast as my legs could carry me."  
  
Rosie touched Sam's face, tracing a line down his careworn cheek. "Go on, love."  
  
"Mistress Lily came fast as ever she could, and they were closed up in the bedroom for a good while, then all of a sudden I could hear my Mum crying. I was so glad she was wakeful, but it frightened me too, and even more so when I heard my Gaffer crying right along with her. I would have busted in then, so worried was I, but Daisy took me by the shoulders and made me go to the kitchen, and told me that Mum had lost the babe – that it had died and wasn't goin to be born or live at all. By the time I snuck back to the bedroom door, the crying had stopped and there was just talkin'. That's when I heard Mistress Lily tell my Gaffer that the wee one was a lad." He looked into Rosie's eyes, deep fear coloring his expression. "She never was with child again after that, Rosie, and she grieved sore over it. We all did. I just don't know what I would do if something happened to our little one. I couldn't bear it, Rose."  
  
"Oh, Sam, dear Sam." Rosie folded him into her arms and kissed him. "I never knew. Poor Sam." She held him tightly for a long time before speaking again, this time with both compassion and firmness. Very rarely did hobbit lasses lose babes before their time, and no one in her family ever had. Rosie was determined to put Sam's heart at ease, as much for her own sake as for his. It was a long time yet until Spring.  
  
"Samwise, my love, listen to me," she said, cupping his face in her hands. "Nothing is going to happen to me, and nothing to our little one. I am young, and strong, Sam, and no one in my family has ever lost a babe." Rosie spoke with the conviction that what she was saying was the truth, and not meant simply to soothe. "Your Mum – she was often ill, and we lost her early, much too early, but she was much older than I am now. What happened to her was rare. It isn't going to happen to us, Sam."  
  
Sam looked at her, and he believed her. The telling of the tale had been like the lifting of a weight from his heart, and he realized that unnecessary fear had clutched him almost from the moment he learned of the life growing inside his sweet Rose.  
  
"Alright, Rosie," he conceded reluctantly, "but promise me that you will care for yourself."  
  
"Always, Sam," she said sincerely, "This babe is the greatest treasure in my life, next to you, and I would never put her in danger."  
  
"Him," Sam corrected, his voice muffled against Rosie's neck, and she could feel him smile against the softness of her skin.  
  
~TBC~  
  
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Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise. 


	30. Birthday

Sam's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Acknowledgements/Disclaimers: See chapter 1  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, September 1420  
  
Author's note: I apologize for the long delay! Now that school is out for the summer, I hope to update with more consistency. ^_^  
  
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Chapter 30: Birthday  
  
Rating: PG  
  
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Summer faded into autumn, and the time of Frodo's fifty-second birthday drew near. Sam and Rosie kept expecting Frodo to begin preparations, but when the fifteenth of September came and went, Sam decided to broach the subject.  
  
He found Frodo in the study, writing by candlelight, as the sun had already fallen below the western horizon. The light flickered softly against the older hobbit's features, and Sam smiled. At nearly fifty-two, Frodo looked both younger and older than his true age. Younger, in that at a glance he resembled a hobbit closer to thirty-five or forty summers. Sam knew that this was in part due to the influence of the Ring. Gandalf had told them that Frodo would regather his age after only a few years, just as Bilbo had, but still no hint of gray touched his dark curls. At the same time, Frodo looked older. His face was thin, drawn about the cheekbones; fine lines of grief and sorrow were etched around his deep blue eyes, and behind those fathomless eyes was a shadow – a shadow that seemed sometimes to grow, rather than diminish, with the passing days.  
  
Frodo sensed Sam's presence and looked up, smiling. "Hullo, Sam." He said, laying down his pen and patting the seat next to him. "Come and talk with me. You have something on your mind, I can tell."  
  
"That I do, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, coming over and seating himself. A glance showed him that Frodo was working on maps, something that Sam had no head for. Merry had helped Frodo a great deal with the map portion of the Red Book, being good with maps himself, and in fact had been over the evening before. Sam now wished he had brought up the subject of Frodo's birthday yesterday, with Merry to back him.  
  
"Well?" asked Frodo, "Out with it, Sam. Is it something to do with Rosie and the baby?"  
  
"Oh, no, sir," Sam said quickly. "All's well with them both, thankee. It's you I am wondering about, truth be told. A week from today is your birthday, you know, and you've neither said nor planned a thing for it, as far as we can tell."  
  
Frodo laughed. "And by 'we' you mean, you, and Rosie, and Merry, and Pippin, and half the Shire besides, I suppose."  
  
Sam's mouth pulled upwards on one side, and he blushed just a little. "Now, Mr. Frodo, there's no doubt you throw a good party, an' I love a party as much as any hobbit. But so do you – or at least you did, before…" He trailed off, feeling suddenly uncertain, but Frodo said nothing, so he continued. "Besides, yer last birthday was in Rivendell, so this one is the first since we've returned to the Shire, and, well, I s'pose I was expecting you to celebrate, yet there's no sign of it at one week shy, and I felt I should at least ask, and see what yer mind is on the matter."  
  
Sam paused again. For a moment longer Frodo said nothing. His eyes were cast down upon the maps in front of him, and Sam could not read his expression.  
  
"Bilbo will be one hundred and thirty, you know?" he said at last, looking up at Sam and smiling. "One more year and he will pass the Old Took! I so wish I could be with him next week, on our birthday, to celebrate."  
  
Sam nodded. "That would be lovely," he agreed, "but I don't suppose he can travel anymore. Are you thinking of goin' ta see him? Is that why you've not planned for a party?"  
  
Frodo sighed. "No, Sam. In any case I could not reach Rivendell in a week, as you well know. No, I have not planned for a party because I simply have not had the heart to do so. There are many, though I would invite them, who would not come, I think. And those dear to me I see as often as I wish, so a large celebration seems unnecessary somehow."  
  
Sam furrowed his brow with concern. It was true that his master had quietly dropped out of almost all of the Shire doings since he resigned as Deputy Mayor. It was also true that some who had called Frodo 'friend' before he went on his quest now avoided him completely, and that he did not have the honor that Sam felt…that he knew Frodo deserved. This pained Sam sorely, though he understood it not and knew not how to change it.  
  
"Well," Sam said, slowly, "How would it be if we planned the party then – planned to for you?" His voice grew a little faster. "I know it's not the normal way of going about things, but Rosie and I, and your friends – we could plan it for you, and you wouldn't have to do a thing, except pick out presents ta give, if you had a mind. And no one need know that you didn't plan it your own self, neither. I know you would enjoy a party, Frodo. You enjoyed my wedding well enough."  
  
Frodo laughed again, and clapped Sam across the shoulders. "That I did, Sam, a little too much perhaps, in the way of ale, but it was a lovely party."  
  
"So, may we then?" Sam asked, liking this idea more and more. "May we plan a party for you, for next week?"  
  
"How could I refuse such a generous offer, Sam? Of course you may," Frodo said with a genuine smile. "But you must let me help. Indeed, you must make me help, and not let me stay holed up here with my work. Promise me, Sam."  
  
"Alright," said Sam, standing up from the table.  
  
"And not too big a party," Frodo said seriously, " I mean it, Sam, just my closest friends and relations. I haven't the heart nor the energy for a party of large proportions."  
  
Sam nodded. "Yes, sir. Just a small party, but it will be a merry one, and we shall toast Mr. Bilbo proper, as well."  
  
"Yes, we shall!" said Frodo. "In fact, I have done enough work for tonight, I think. Let's you and Rosie and I work on a list for invitations before bed." He stood up then, and went with Sam into the bright kitchen.  
  
~TBC~ 


	31. Fifty two

Sam's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Acknowledgements/Disclaimers: See chapter 1  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, September 1420  
  
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Chapter 31: Fifty-two  
  
Rating: G  
  
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The morning of September twenty-second dawned cloudy. Frodo was concerned that the Birthday party would be sullied by a rainstorm, but Sam and Rosie, whose lives had always been concerned with weather patterns, assured him that it would clear off by midmorning. And so it did. When the party began at noon, the only clouds visible were of the soft, puffy kind, soaring lazily from West to East across the pale autumn sky.  
  
It was a modest party, by hobbit standards. The guest list had been pared down to about 40 hobbits, a truly intimate gathering by Sam's standards, but almost more company than Frodo wished.  
  
Of the forty invited guests, only twenty-seven had come, including Merry and Pippin, portions of their families, the Cottons, the Gamgees, some Bolgers, and some other cousins. Sam was disappointed to see the empty seats scattered among the tables, but Frodo seemed very pleased with the party, so Sam wisely kept his mouth shut. The only comment he made was an aside to his Gaffer.  
  
"Time was when folk would cancel their own parties to come to a Baggins'," he muttered irritably to the old hobbit.  
  
"Now lad, don't ye go takin' offense fer someone else, least of all yer betters. Mr. Frodo seems right happy enough with his party just tha way 'tis." The Gaffer gestured with his pipe towards Frodo, who was laughing with Merry and Fatty across the garden.  
  
Sam looked, and Frodo certainly appeared to be having a good time, but the uncomfortable feeling continued to press against the back of his mind, and he brought it up again later to Rosie.  
  
"It ain't right, Rose. He saved the Shire - he saved all of middle-earth - yet he's not giv'n one tenth of the respect or honor he's deservin' of."  
  
Merry and Pippin had come to the party dressed up in their armor. They often went about the Shire dressed so, and quite impressive they looked all in green and white and silver and sable. Sam knew they were doing their part - educating the Shirefolk about the War and the King who rules not only Gondor but also the North. Folk were eager to hear their tales, and if "dressing up queer" made folk listen the closer, then Pip and Merry were more than willing to cooperate. Sam suspected, however, that there was another reason they wore their finery so often- he remembered well the look on Rosie's face when he had galloped up to her doorstep clad in mail and girt with sword. He smiled at the memory.  
  
Well, if Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin could find deserving lasses, than so much the better. Why, there sat Pippin now, showing his sword to a group of young beauties, over by the food table.  
  
Mr. Frodo, though, that was more difficult. Sam would be pleased to see him so much as nod to a lass. Before the quest, Frodo had been quite popular with the lasses, much more than Sam himself, and had enjoyed a turn around the dance floor as much as any hobbit. But since their return, he seemed to have put such things aside. He still went to the Green Dragon with the travelers from time to time, but he was quite a few years older than the rest of them, and all signs pointed to Frodo following Mr. Bilbo's steps and remaining a bachelor.  
  
"A shame that," Sam said to himself, "though I do understand. Perhaps he thinks himself unable to give himself to someone, at least not yet."  
  
Sam's musings were interrupted at that moment by a great cheer from the party guests. Looking up in surprise, he saw his master standing at the other end of the garden, smiling and talking animatedly, mug in hand. He was giving his birthday speech, and his eyes and voice were light.  
  
".I would also like to thank most sincerely my dearest friend, Samwise Gamgee, and his wife Rosie. Without them this party would not have happened."  
  
There was another cheer, and several hobbits clapped Sam across the back. Rosie, who was taking her turn with the musicians, smiled at both Sam and Frodo and made a small curtsy.  
  
"And finally," Frodo continued, "I would like to offer a toast - to my dear Uncle Biblo, who is one hundred and thirty years old today. I wish he were here with us, but as you know he is in Rivendell, where I am sure he is being feasted quite handsomely."  
  
Frodo drained his cup, and the other hobbits followed suit. With that, he sat back down beside Merry and reached for his plate, but not before smiling and nodding at Sam. His face was shining with gratitude and happiness.  
  
"He's alright, Samwise Gamgee," Sam told himself, nodding back to Frodo and raising his mug to him. "He'll be as right as rain once he finishes that red book of his."  
  
And certainly, at that moment, it seemed so.  
  
~TBC~ 


	32. Labor and Lemons

Sam's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Acknowledgements/Disclaimers: See chapter 1  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
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Chapter 32: Labor and Lemons  
  
Setting: The Shire, Late November, 1420  
  
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Sam drew his sleeve across his sweaty brow and squinted at the early afternoon sun.  
  
"Oughta be getting cooler by this time o'year," said Farmer Cotton, as if he had read Sam's thoughts, "End of November - leaves shoulda been turnin' last month."  
  
"Aye, but it's been such an unusually fine summer," replied Sam, pounding at the wheel peg again, "I can't really complain if autumn tarries, though the heat is a bit hard on Rose." He paused his pounding to glance over his shoulder at her, sitting under the lemon tree with her mother and Daisy. Sure enough, she was fanning herself with her apron.  
  
"Don't work too hard, now, Rose," he called to her, causing all three women to laugh.  
  
"She's not working at all, you goose," Daisy teased, "We're just sorting these lemons out by ripeness." She gestured to a mound of lemons on the earth between the ladies.  
  
"She was pickin' them, a minute ago," Sam grumbled, but he winked and smiled at his father-in-law, who was checking the rear axle.  
  
Sam and Farmer Cotton were building a cart. A fine sturdy cart with room enough for three hobbits on the seat and a crowd of hobbit lads or lasses in back. Sam had never had a pony cart of his own, never needed one, as he hadn't had a pony of his own. But now that he had his Bill, and Mr. Frodo's Strider, it seemed sensible to have a cart. Besides, Rosie's pregnancy was advancing to the point where riding a pony was uncomfortable.  
  
"And dangerous," Sam muttered to himself, causing the farmer to look up.  
  
"Eh?" he asked, "What's dangerous? Not this cart! She's as sound as an oak!" He smacked the seat of the cart with his palm.  
  
Sam stood up and nodded. They were almost finished, and it was an excellent cart. Now Rosie could make the trip to the Cotton farm and back without worrying Sam, and both of the "Bag End Ponies" could be put to better use.  
  
"Daisy, bring Bill over here, will you, so we can check." Sam broke off, for turning his head, he saw that the women were gone, along with the heap of lemons. He shrugged, willing himself not to worry, and trotted over to the gate. He whistled, and the doughty little pony came at once.  
  
"Hullo, Bill," Sam said with affection, "We're almost finished, but we need you for a sizin'." He led the pony to the cart, and with the Farmer's help soon had him hitched up.  
  
"I think the front axle needs lowering, just a bit," suggested the farmer, "and we need to finish the bed as well, or whatever yer totin' will be fallin' right out behind. After that we start to paintin'. Did you bring paint, Sam? I have some white if you dinna."  
  
"Oh yes, we brought it. Mr. Frodo has a fair supply in one of the storerooms up at the End, left from all of the renovations. All sorts of sensible colors, and white too, but Rose insists she wants this here cart painted green, as green as the door to Bag End." He paused, and an affectionate smile tugged his lips. "I never did see a cart painted bright green, but somehow it suits, if you follow me."  
  
Farmer Cotton looked at Sam from under the brim of his hat. "Well, it surely suits our Rose, if that's what you mean, Sam. That lass is as full of life as anything that grows, and she has always loved bright colors. Green will suit fine, lad, and will keep clean better than white besides."  
  
"Rose says it will look handsome along with Bill's dark brown coat," Sam said bemused, "Tho' he was so dull as to be almost gray when I first laid eyes on him." He slapped the pony's glossy neck affectionately before taking him back to the field gate. It was impossible to believe that Bill had ever been the once mistreated creature from Bree.  
  
The men set to work again, whistling as they labored, and the sun sank closer to the horizon, but the afternoon heat continued its merciless climb. About halfway through painting, the farmhouse door opened, and the ladies reappeared, bearing mugs and a pitcher, and giggling.  
  
"Ah, just what we need," said the farmer, who assumed the lasses were bringing Ale or water. He reached eagerly for the mug in his wife's hand.  
  
"Now just one minute, Cotton," she said. Before you go drinkin this, you need to know, this is summat new - summat we haven't tried before, and I am not sure as you will like it."  
  
"Though we like it!" said Rosie, grinning and proffering a mug to Sam.  
  
Sam looked doubtfully into the mug, and sniffed, but he caught no distinctive smell other then the scent of lemons, which emanated from all three women. With a shrug, he lifted his mug and drank deeply.  
  
A strong sweetness washed over his parched tongue and down his throat, along with the unmistakable taste of lemons. It was wonderful, and the moment his mug was empty, he said so.  
  
"It's made with lemons and water," confessed the farmer's wife  
  
"And some sugar to take away the bitterness," added Daisy, "do you like it?"  
  
"Aye!" said both Sam and the farmer, simultaneously and with enthusiasm. The women laughed, refilling the empty mugs from the pitcher until their thirst was vanquished.  
  
"An' whose grand idea was this new drink?" asked Farmer Cotton, kissing his wife's cheek and taking up his paintbrush again.  
  
"Well," said Daisy, "Pervinca Took and her cousin Poppy, not Poppy Bolger mind you, Poppy Took, they so love lemons and were always sucking the juice from them until their mouths were burning and puckered like a squalling babe's. And they got it into their heads to make a drink from the lemons. They tried it on Master Peregrin, but he said it was much too sour and suggested they pour in sugar, which they did, and soon the whole family was asking for it at luncheon. Pippin told Tom about it t'other eve at the Dragon, and Tom told Mari, and Mari told me. I knew you had a fine lemon tree right here in your yard, so I suggested to Rosie we try to make it ourselves." Daisy grinned at the men, who were quite taken about by such a long explanation.  
  
"The little one likes it too," said Rosie, placing her husband's palm on her belly. He could feel the child stirring beneath his fingers and his pulse quickened, as it always did when he felt his child moving inside her.  
  
"Or doesn't," he teased, bending to kiss the swell of life. "Now be off with ye lasses and let us paint this cart. By tomorrow eve it'll be fit to drive, if'n you let us finish."  
  
"Oh, is it nearly done, Sam?"  
  
"'Tis, an should be done in under an hour, and supper sure would go down proper about that time," he said.  
  
"An more of that lemon drink would sure go down proper with supper," added Cotton, "If it's no trouble."  
  
"I think we can manage it," Mrs. Cotton assured him, "tho don't be expecting it every day. It takes a passel of lemons to make just one pitcher!"  
  
~TBC~  
  
Author's note: I know this is not my best chapter, but after months of neglecting this story, I needed something to kick-start me. More to follow soon, or may trouts rain on me from the skies! 


	33. Home

Sam's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Acknowledgements/Disclaimers: See chapter 1  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
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Chapter 33: Home  
  
Setting: The Shire, December 3, 1420  
  
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"How much longer, d'you think?" Sam asked, shifting on the bright green seat of the cart and glancing sideways at his wife. They were returning from a ten-day stay at the Cottons. Sam had helped the farmer and his sons repair the west fence in return for help building the little cart, and Sam was tired but very pleased. Even Bill seemed happy with the colorful contraption, and he trotted happily in front of them, drawing them over the road as smoothly and proudly as a great horse might draw a chariot.  
  
"Ta home? Not more'n 10 minutes, I should say," Rosie replied with a puzzled tone, drawing in her cloak more tightly against the cold evening air. "Sam Gamgee, you know as well as I do how far we are from Bag End."  
  
Sam laughed. "Nay, Rosie, not how long ta home. How long 'til the little 'un comes? Do you know? What did Missus Lily say?"  
  
Rosie smiled at the misunderstanding. She had happened to run into Lily Chubb when she was at Market on Tuesday, and Lily had insisted that Rosie come back to her smial for a cup of tea and a lookover. Lily was unusual in her attentiveness to Hobbit mothers before the birth of their babes. She insisted that paying close attention in the months before a birth could prevent problems with the birth itself.  
  
"You are as healthy a hobbit as I have ever seen, Rosie," Lily had proclaimed after examining her, "and this little one seems healthy as well. Has the sickness in the mornings quite passed?"  
  
"Yes," Rosie had assured her, stroking her palm over the silky warmth of her swollen abdomen, "actually, I feel wonderful."  
  
"Good," said Lily, "and you say the babe is moving about, every day?"  
  
"Oh yes, more all the time," Rosie grinned, "I canna wait until I have him in my arms instead of in my belly."  
  
"Well, guessing by the size now and by how you are feeling, I should think you will have your wish sometime in March."  
  
"March?" Sam repeated, snapping the reins involuntarily, as if by speeding the little pony he could speed the date of his child's arrival, "He's coming right soon." He grinned at Rosie.  
  
"Aye, and we should be thinkin' of a name for him." Rosie said. She had recently given way to her husband's surety that this child was a lad, despite her instincts otherwise. She supposed most new parents wanted a child of their own gender to come first, and perhaps this was why she pictured her unborn babe as a little lass, while Sam insisted on the opposite.  
  
"A name, yes," Sam said thoughtfully, "Rose, love, I've been thinkin' about that."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Aye. I've been thinkin', well, it might be nice to name him, that is, if it is alright with you, Rosie." he trailed off, looking rather sheepishly at his wife.  
  
"What, Sam?" Rosie smiled at him softly and placed her hand on his forearm. "I am sure any name you want would be suitable."  
  
Sam smiled at the warm contact. Oh, how he loved her, and the child they shared! "Well, Rose, I was thinking perhaps we could call him Frodo, after Mr. Frodo, you know, after all he has done for me, for us, it seems fitting. And also." he paused again.  
  
"Also what?" Rosie prompted, running her soft hand up and down his forearm reassuringly.  
  
Sam turned the cart up the lane to the New Row. The sun had set on the way, and now the stars were winking on. He drew a deep breath of cold air. Winter was finally coming. "Also," he continued, "it is awfully important that folk remember - remember what Frodo did, what he did for the Shire, for all of us. He should be honored, much more'n he is. Seems to me naming a child for him is one way of doing that."  
  
Rosie looked up the lane towards the beautiful hill that was now Home. The smial where she and Sam had become a family, and where, very soon, she would give birth to their first child. "First of many, I hope," she said to herself. And she thought about the hobbit who lived there with them, and what he had been through - what little she understood of it - and suddenly she felt tears press against the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Rose?"  
  
"Frodo is a perfectly lovely name, Sam," Rosie said softly, scooting over on the cart seat to press against her husband, and kissing his cheek gently.  
  
Sam grinned and snapped the reins again, urging Bill to take the last few yards briskly. It was getting late, and he was eager to get home. He had known, of course, that Rosie would defer to him in the matter of a name, but for some reason it was important to him that she not just defer, but agree. Of course there was no way of knowing for sure that the babe would be male, but if he was, Sam wanted his firstborn son to bear the name of the bravest and wisest hobbit of all, the name of his best friend. As if she could hear his thoughts, Rosie squeezed his arm again and nestled her head against his shoulder.  
  
They circled around the Row to the back gate of Bag End, and Sam hopped out of the cart to unlatch it, first handing Bill's reins to Rosie. They had built a little stable for Bill and Strider in the rear yard months ago, and Sam intended to park the little cart next to the stable when it was not in use. He led Bill into the yard, and helped Rosie down from the cart.  
  
"I'll just go on in and put on some tea, Sam," she said, gathering her baskets from the cart bed. "And I'll check on Mr. Frodo, too."  
  
"Alright, Rose, I'll be along as soon as I care for Bill."  
  
Rosie made her way to the back door of the Smial. She could see a little smoke curling from the chimney - perhaps from Frodo's room - but the rest of the hole seemed dark and cold. She hoped fervently that Frodo was alright. In October he had been gravely ill, so ill that she had wondered if these terrible wounds of the past could actually kill the gentle hobbit who meant so much to her Sam.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Rosie called softly as she entered the kitchen. There was no answer. Shivering a little, she placed her burdens on the table and crossed to the hearth, stirred up the coals, and piled on a good portion of wood. Next, she lit some candles, and put water on to boil for tea. She noted that there were no unwashed dishes in the kitchen, which could be a good sign or a bad one. Frodo was a neat Hobbit who cleaned up after himself when he was well. Then again, if he was very, very ill, he might not have eaten at all.  
  
Taking up a candle, Rosie went to Frodo's bedroom, and was encouraged to see firelight spilling from underneath the door. She knocked softly.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Come in, Rosie," came his voice from within. Rosie released a held breath and opened the door.  
  
Frodo was sitting in the heavy chair next to the fire, which was crackling merrily, reading from the volume Aragorn had sent to him last spring and fingering the jewel that hung about his neck. He looked up and smiled at her. "Welcome home. How was your visit?"  
  
"It was lovely, thankee, Mr. Frodo, but lovelier to be back. Just wait until you see the cart. 'Tis a fine little cart, and as green as the front door. Sam is so proud." She paused, taking in his drawn paleness and the empty mug on the floor beside the chair. "I'm making some fresh tea. Would you like some?"  
  
"I would, thank you, Rosie. I have been wishing for a fresh cup since long before sundown, but I lost track of the time, seemingly." He looked at the darkened window as if he was just realizing how late it was. "I do that often, actually."  
  
This last remark was almost to himself, and Rosie was unsure if she should respond. After a moment she shifted her weight from one weary hip to the other, and his eyes refocused at the soft sound of rustling fabric.  
  
"Sam is tending to Bill, I suppose?" he asked politely.  
  
"Aye," said Rosie, "Shall I send him to you when he comes in?"  
  
"Please do, along with that tea, if he doesn't mind, and a bite for both of us, if he is not too weary to talk for a short while." He smiled at her again, and Rosie nodded before closing the door.  
  
"Well enough, but melancholy, I should say," Rosie muttered to herself on her way back to the kitchen. "It's not right for a hobbit to be melancholy, nor so thin!" Brow creased, she prepared a tray laden with good things to eat, and was pouring the tea when Sam came in from caring for the ponies.  
  
~tbc~ 


End file.
